Just burnt my tongue testing tonight's ribollita.
It's taken so bloody long to cook I am no longer hungry, having eaten all the bread I was supposed to toast to put in it!
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
teevee
Just watched 30 seconds of Gigi d'Alessio cutting bread.
Seemed like MUCH longer!
Gigi d'Alessio come up as incorrect in the spellcheck too, as does spellcheck. Spell check, it would seem, is better. Alternatives for Gigi d'Alessio are Gigi passionless, Gigs Recessional, Gig Expressionless and Gigi depression.
Decide for yourself : http://www.gigidalessio.com/
Seemed like MUCH longer!
Gigi d'Alessio come up as incorrect in the spellcheck too, as does spellcheck. Spell check, it would seem, is better. Alternatives for Gigi d'Alessio are Gigi passionless, Gigs Recessional, Gig Expressionless and Gigi depression.
Decide for yourself : http://www.gigidalessio.com/
OK MICHAEL LEIGH on SEA!!
Michael, you is probably right. So I have decided to keep this blog open. (Oh, the word blog comes up as incorrect/unknown on y browser's spellcheck..)
No doubt that not a lot will occur, but anything I post on the other one I should post here too.
'Tis neater here.
No doubt that not a lot will occur, but anything I post on the other one I should post here too.
'Tis neater here.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
UDON NOODLES
Seeing as this blog has not been updated for yonks, we thunk it was time to so.
BUT! having so little to say it only seems wise to try to do just that!
So
Most of any potential input to this blog has bee moved to the UDON NOODLES page
http://www.myspace.com/udonnoodleincident
WHO??
Formed in 2007 by surviving members of The Malicious Brothers, ZweiKaiserBund, Lovely Daze and Bowman, Udon Noodles is the Experimental side project of Udon-Noodle Death the infamous anglo-italian psychedelic-c&w duo.
YEAH BUT WHO??
Udon Noodles are (all songs/instruments etc:) Anna Wombal; L. Mow-Banana; Boomerang; Frank Cabernet; Pietro Kimiko; with regular guest on Tibetan Singing Bowls: A Bowman
http://www.myspace.com/udonnoodleincident
OH!
Come on over and check it out, you be sorry you did!
:-)
BUT! having so little to say it only seems wise to try to do just that!
So
Most of any potential input to this blog has bee moved to the UDON NOODLES page
http://www.myspace.com/udonnoodleincident
WHO??
Formed in 2007 by surviving members of The Malicious Brothers, ZweiKaiserBund, Lovely Daze and Bowman, Udon Noodles is the Experimental side project of Udon-Noodle Death the infamous anglo-italian psychedelic-c&w duo.
YEAH BUT WHO??
Udon Noodles are (all songs/instruments etc:) Anna Wombal; L. Mow-Banana; Boomerang; Frank Cabernet; Pietro Kimiko; with regular guest on Tibetan Singing Bowls: A Bowman
http://www.myspace.com/udonnoodleincident
OH!
Come on over and check it out, you be sorry you did!
:-)
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Friday, February 23, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
sitting in the office, thinking...
....
nope that's not working.
here in venice trying to get more hits for www.emilyharveyfoundation.org.
coming soon, Berty Skuber, Philip Corner and later on Ay-O - see the newsletter for details.
oh well, back to work....
ho-hum
nope that's not working.
here in venice trying to get more hits for www.emilyharveyfoundation.org.
coming soon, Berty Skuber, Philip Corner and later on Ay-O - see the newsletter for details.
oh well, back to work....
ho-hum
Monday, January 29, 2007
Alan Bowman Performance Texts
http://www.lulu.com/content/648185
Alan Bowman: Performance Texts 1998 – 2004 With additional texts from 2005 – 2006 Surviving performance/event scores produced by Alan Bowman/The Freeformfreakout Organisation in the period 1998 to 2004 with an addendum of alterations and additions to texts and additional texts from 2005/2006.
Alan Bowman: Performance Texts 1998 – 2004 With additional texts from 2005 – 2006 Surviving performance/event scores produced by Alan Bowman/The Freeformfreakout Organisation in the period 1998 to 2004 with an addendum of alterations and additions to texts and additional texts from 2005/2006.
A Biography of Sol Nte
http://www.lulu.com/content/650143
Born in 1873 to a family of immigrant Danish pastry farmers and the youngest of 11 siblings, expelled from the Robert Downey Junior School in Elton John's Wood,star of the Barber Surgeon's Hall dissection table and serious threat to the Turin Shroud, Sol Nte is quite possibly the world’s greatest living anagram of a waterway.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
mump
We is concerned here in the Waugh/Bowman household for Nic fears she may have the 'Mump'. Not the mumps as suffered by many a poor child but the 'Mump'. For she has the soreness on but one side.
Those of us amongst the staff who have consulted the medical dictionary, when we recovered from the shock of the 'Mucus' pages are of the combined and informed opinion that she has a touch of the old sore throat.
The Hooligans were at home again today, Daniel with the fevers and Joseph with the raging snotters, both exhausted were also suffering from the 'getting up at six o'clock in the morning and jumping up and down on mammy and daddy's bed syndrome' i.e. a black humour, lack of appetite and the like.
I lost yet another day's work.
kids eh? can't live with 'em
can you?
;-)
Those of us amongst the staff who have consulted the medical dictionary, when we recovered from the shock of the 'Mucus' pages are of the combined and informed opinion that she has a touch of the old sore throat.
The Hooligans were at home again today, Daniel with the fevers and Joseph with the raging snotters, both exhausted were also suffering from the 'getting up at six o'clock in the morning and jumping up and down on mammy and daddy's bed syndrome' i.e. a black humour, lack of appetite and the like.
I lost yet another day's work.
kids eh? can't live with 'em
can you?
;-)
Saturday, December 02, 2006
new fluxus
Warning! The following has a boring factor rating of 110/100. Probably better if you just look for the link it talks about!
Being an admirer of and interested in Fluxus, in fact having got to know and even work with some of the artists involved, I kind of keep half an eye on what is going on. A member of Fluxlist since 1998 (now NeoFluxlist on Yahoo as our host server seems to have packed up its trouble in its old kit bag and buggered off), I have had the fortune to witness the antics of quiet a few Fluxus inspired contemporary artists.
One of the arguments or questions that often arises is 'just how do we define Fluxus?' both historical and contemporary and so far no one seems to have come up with an answer which suits all, probably for the best. This question often leads to heavy and dour discussions and diatribes over 'who is in the gang? who can be? what is/was the gang in the first place?' And while this is all very good and academic and stuff it often omits to include the humour Fluxus, which although may not actually be that relevant to the argument but is important to me! :-)
I have noticed a distinct lack of fun in a lot of contemporary Fluxus inspired works, lots of 'research' and experiment which I am very interested in. Allen Bukoff (allenbukoff.com) is a contemporary Fluxus inspired artist (despite shunning the whole scene, well for a brief period anyway ;-) ), whose works involve a great deal of wry humour and whose 'research' pieces may appear somewhat tongue in cheek but on closer inspection/reflection are a whole lot deeper. Inspired.
There are of course many contemporary Fluxus inspired artists who have a fantastic sense of humour, but which choose not to express this in their work.
Recently however I came across a site which really did make me laugh, it's not particulary Fluxus it's basically just a send up or a parody of some Fluxus artists. I suppose it's not really all that good but it really hit a spot.
Yogi Fu Maciunas' "Flux-Mess" a parody of the Flux Mass is quite near the mark and Henry Flinch's "An Essay on Exceptual Art" is rather naughty. I spent a good few weeks with Henry once, I don't suppose he'd appreciate the joke.
the site is at fluxuswaste.blogspot.com/ there's not a lot there but i'm kind of hoping that more stuff will turn up.
and i'm not completely convinced that allen bukoff is not involved...
Being an admirer of and interested in Fluxus, in fact having got to know and even work with some of the artists involved, I kind of keep half an eye on what is going on. A member of Fluxlist since 1998 (now NeoFluxlist on Yahoo as our host server seems to have packed up its trouble in its old kit bag and buggered off), I have had the fortune to witness the antics of quiet a few Fluxus inspired contemporary artists.
One of the arguments or questions that often arises is 'just how do we define Fluxus?' both historical and contemporary and so far no one seems to have come up with an answer which suits all, probably for the best. This question often leads to heavy and dour discussions and diatribes over 'who is in the gang? who can be? what is/was the gang in the first place?' And while this is all very good and academic and stuff it often omits to include the humour Fluxus, which although may not actually be that relevant to the argument but is important to me! :-)
I have noticed a distinct lack of fun in a lot of contemporary Fluxus inspired works, lots of 'research' and experiment which I am very interested in. Allen Bukoff (allenbukoff.com) is a contemporary Fluxus inspired artist (despite shunning the whole scene, well for a brief period anyway ;-) ), whose works involve a great deal of wry humour and whose 'research' pieces may appear somewhat tongue in cheek but on closer inspection/reflection are a whole lot deeper. Inspired.
There are of course many contemporary Fluxus inspired artists who have a fantastic sense of humour, but which choose not to express this in their work.
Recently however I came across a site which really did make me laugh, it's not particulary Fluxus it's basically just a send up or a parody of some Fluxus artists. I suppose it's not really all that good but it really hit a spot.
Yogi Fu Maciunas' "Flux-Mess" a parody of the Flux Mass is quite near the mark and Henry Flinch's "An Essay on Exceptual Art" is rather naughty. I spent a good few weeks with Henry once, I don't suppose he'd appreciate the joke.
the site is at fluxuswaste.blogspot.com/ there's not a lot there but i'm kind of hoping that more stuff will turn up.
and i'm not completely convinced that allen bukoff is not involved...
Friday, November 24, 2006
?
well then not a lot to report of late. all been a bit dull really.
venezia did win on sunday though, 5-0 against pro patria! who?
exactly!
but they were 4 good goals and a penalty, pretty exciting stuff really. almost got my voice back.
had a horrible cold
but it's gone.
almost finished the biography of Sol Nte, Stoke on Trent's startlingly trousered troubadour then i'm going to send a copy to Roger Stevens and Michael Leigh for editing.
as they have absolutely nothing better to do! (check their blogs!)
tra.....
venezia did win on sunday though, 5-0 against pro patria! who?
exactly!
but they were 4 good goals and a penalty, pretty exciting stuff really. almost got my voice back.
had a horrible cold
but it's gone.
almost finished the biography of Sol Nte, Stoke on Trent's startlingly trousered troubadour then i'm going to send a copy to Roger Stevens and Michael Leigh for editing.
as they have absolutely nothing better to do! (check their blogs!)
tra.....
Thursday, November 16, 2006
The Reversal of the Ex-Communication of Lord Listamovimenti Byron
the following is an extract from a document (as yet undated) found in the freeformfreakout organisation archives. unfortunately we have been unable to upload the images as our scanner is goosed. it appears to be an illustrated field report from a dig in the venetian lagoon - the following is what appears to be some background information which may shed some light on the actual finds:
The Reversal of the Ex-Communication of Lord Listamovimenti Byron
(The Impostor or Fake)
Archaeological Find from Saint Julian’s Isle
(The Impostor or Fake)
Archaeological Find from Saint Julian’s Isle
There is a legend which tells of a tale which relates the story of an enormous and preposterously opulent feast. A huge banquet, outrageous in both size, cost and the amount of quail used instead of hotdogs with the cheese and pineapple cocktail stick nibbles. The banquet is said to have taken place in Venice at the beginning of the height of the might of the Most Serene Republic, and is said to have involved so many guests that no calle or campo in Venice, not even Piazza San Marco was big enough to seat them all.
The banquet was in honour of the Reversal of the Ex-Communication of the Fake Lord Byron by Pope Gregory the Furred. Byron was originally ex-communicated for his blasphemous poetry, most notably the sonnet “Oh, So Called All-Seeing, All Knowing, All powerful One! If You’re so Great then Come On Have a Go! I Challenge You to a Yorkshire Shin-Kicking Competition, If You Can Find Me that is!”
Byron renounced his poem as an “Ill-informed and misguided work of nonsense by an ignorant and silly fool who had certainly seen the errors of his ways and who had every intention of returning to The Flock ay ess ay pee!” Byron had spent a god month or two in hospital after being found unconscious in an upturned beer barrel with severely bruised shins and a size thirteen Walkley’s ‘Foundryman’ Safety Clog miraculously wedged in a place which would ensure his avoidance of horseriding, cribbage and other sitting down based activities (like sitting down) for a goodly while.
So large indeed was the table required for the feast that a special pontoon bridge, funded by a special Black Jack Night at the Garibaldi Working Mens’ Club, had to be constructed out into the lagoon, stretching from Santa Croce almost to Punto San Giuliano or St. Julian’s Fiat.
Archaeological evidence leads us to believe that Pope Gregory, Henry Tudor, Lord Byron and in fact Marco Polo where sitting at the San Giuliano end and not at the ‘Venice’ end as previously thought. One theory being that the smell and noise from the bus station could have potentially triggered one of Pope Gregory’s migraines and therefore the potential flaying alive of any guest who was perhaps a little heavy handed with his spoon during the soup course. Doge Enrico Dandolo is thought to hat been sat at about one kilometre from the ‘Venice’ end, however a large margin of error must be considered probable to allow for the tide.
Giacomo Casanova, King Louis XIV of France, Quentin Crisp, Mary Magdalene and Martin Luther are thought to have occupied the foot of the table, the Santa Croce, or ‘Venice’ end. Studies of fossilised footprints found under platform three of the station point top the fact that a “right old time” was had by all in that particular company. Close scrutiny of the footprints show that apparently Casanova and Crisp coped considerably better when dancing in heels that King Louis or Mary Magdalene. Martin Luther, sat at that end for obvious reasons. (He still had a bag of nails from the Vatican True Relics of the Cross workshops that the Pope had lent him, unaware of what he wanted them for.) It is also interesting to note that Luther, although barefoot, appears to have danced a mean Tarantella.
Pope Simon, responsible for Byron’s ex-communication was not present on the count of the fact that;
a.) he wasn’t really all that popular in the Byron camp;
b.) the presence of two popes at the same dinner table may have been deemed as somewhat of a bad show, raising doubts over Papal Succession laws but not only that, questions would have bee asked about the economic and environmental issues linked to the creation of all that black and then white smoke, the endless lunches for the cardinals and the traditional end of election disco. The ‘two for the price of a nun’ drinks promotions were said to be responsible for a whole host of things, allegedly including two or three ‘immaculate conceptions’, still kept from the general Hail Mary paying public by Papal Dictate. Pope Simon’s election is purportedly the result of the fact that Cardinals Point and Synne used the white smoke producing wood to stoke up the Vatican oven just as someone else was asking whether “anyone fancied a beer while we look at the menu?”
c.) he’d been dead for 501 years, killed by divine intervention and a miraculous 6 dart finish.
Perhaps one of the most interesting facts about the archaeological finds is the fact that they were uncovered on an island which, if the truth be known, simply could not have existed at the time of the banquet. Standard and accepted previous archaeological finds point to the fact that the island was constructed by the Austrians at the time of their occupation of northern Italy and the construction of the rail bridge which still connect Europe to Venice. It just doesn’t point to where.
Excavations are expected to continue for as long as the wine lasts.
The banquet was in honour of the Reversal of the Ex-Communication of the Fake Lord Byron by Pope Gregory the Furred. Byron was originally ex-communicated for his blasphemous poetry, most notably the sonnet “Oh, So Called All-Seeing, All Knowing, All powerful One! If You’re so Great then Come On Have a Go! I Challenge You to a Yorkshire Shin-Kicking Competition, If You Can Find Me that is!”
Byron renounced his poem as an “Ill-informed and misguided work of nonsense by an ignorant and silly fool who had certainly seen the errors of his ways and who had every intention of returning to The Flock ay ess ay pee!” Byron had spent a god month or two in hospital after being found unconscious in an upturned beer barrel with severely bruised shins and a size thirteen Walkley’s ‘Foundryman’ Safety Clog miraculously wedged in a place which would ensure his avoidance of horseriding, cribbage and other sitting down based activities (like sitting down) for a goodly while.
So large indeed was the table required for the feast that a special pontoon bridge, funded by a special Black Jack Night at the Garibaldi Working Mens’ Club, had to be constructed out into the lagoon, stretching from Santa Croce almost to Punto San Giuliano or St. Julian’s Fiat.
Archaeological evidence leads us to believe that Pope Gregory, Henry Tudor, Lord Byron and in fact Marco Polo where sitting at the San Giuliano end and not at the ‘Venice’ end as previously thought. One theory being that the smell and noise from the bus station could have potentially triggered one of Pope Gregory’s migraines and therefore the potential flaying alive of any guest who was perhaps a little heavy handed with his spoon during the soup course. Doge Enrico Dandolo is thought to hat been sat at about one kilometre from the ‘Venice’ end, however a large margin of error must be considered probable to allow for the tide.
Giacomo Casanova, King Louis XIV of France, Quentin Crisp, Mary Magdalene and Martin Luther are thought to have occupied the foot of the table, the Santa Croce, or ‘Venice’ end. Studies of fossilised footprints found under platform three of the station point top the fact that a “right old time” was had by all in that particular company. Close scrutiny of the footprints show that apparently Casanova and Crisp coped considerably better when dancing in heels that King Louis or Mary Magdalene. Martin Luther, sat at that end for obvious reasons. (He still had a bag of nails from the Vatican True Relics of the Cross workshops that the Pope had lent him, unaware of what he wanted them for.) It is also interesting to note that Luther, although barefoot, appears to have danced a mean Tarantella.
Pope Simon, responsible for Byron’s ex-communication was not present on the count of the fact that;
a.) he wasn’t really all that popular in the Byron camp;
b.) the presence of two popes at the same dinner table may have been deemed as somewhat of a bad show, raising doubts over Papal Succession laws but not only that, questions would have bee asked about the economic and environmental issues linked to the creation of all that black and then white smoke, the endless lunches for the cardinals and the traditional end of election disco. The ‘two for the price of a nun’ drinks promotions were said to be responsible for a whole host of things, allegedly including two or three ‘immaculate conceptions’, still kept from the general Hail Mary paying public by Papal Dictate. Pope Simon’s election is purportedly the result of the fact that Cardinals Point and Synne used the white smoke producing wood to stoke up the Vatican oven just as someone else was asking whether “anyone fancied a beer while we look at the menu?”
c.) he’d been dead for 501 years, killed by divine intervention and a miraculous 6 dart finish.
Perhaps one of the most interesting facts about the archaeological finds is the fact that they were uncovered on an island which, if the truth be known, simply could not have existed at the time of the banquet. Standard and accepted previous archaeological finds point to the fact that the island was constructed by the Austrians at the time of their occupation of northern Italy and the construction of the rail bridge which still connect Europe to Venice. It just doesn’t point to where.
Excavations are expected to continue for as long as the wine lasts.
Monday, October 30, 2006
bleeargghh!
oh well it looks like it's that time of year again, all consuming apathy and inability to do anything creeps in.
at least i've got the football now, a season ticket for venezia - pride of serie c1!
yesterday we were away to cittadella and it was the worst game so far. BUT lunch was good, we found a trattoria near castelfranco veneto which specialised in grilling things on a huge fire in the middle of the restaurant. it was cheap and i ate too much and drank too much wine but the the ultra' were on form and the singing and insult hurling kept me awake.
today i'm just miserable
bleeeaarrgh!
at least i've got the football now, a season ticket for venezia - pride of serie c1!
yesterday we were away to cittadella and it was the worst game so far. BUT lunch was good, we found a trattoria near castelfranco veneto which specialised in grilling things on a huge fire in the middle of the restaurant. it was cheap and i ate too much and drank too much wine but the the ultra' were on form and the singing and insult hurling kept me awake.
today i'm just miserable
bleeeaarrgh!
Sunday, October 08, 2006
forza ragazzi!
Well what's new?
NOWT!!
Got a season ticket for SSC Venezia, stars of Serie C1, actually I got it as a present for my birthday. €55.00 with a free hat and flag! That's like one ticket for Newcastle if you can find one! It's a good laugh the match here though, I went to one once a while back, where the ball went over the stands and into the lagoon. The pre-match warm up is good too:
Spritz in Bar Vittoria here in Mestre then on the bus (or motorbikes) to Venice, down to the fist bar on the Strada Nuova for a seafood risotto, a polpetta/piece of squid/prawn skewer and some cheap red plonk....and so begins the tour of the bacari (little bars) until we get to Rialto, then a few bits and pieces "alla botte" (a bar with excellent polpette) then off down to near St Mark's Square aqnd the pile onto the vaporetto to Sant' Elena where the stadium is.
Stadium is used in the loosest possible way, pile of planks on scaffolding is nearer to the truth.
Then a quick drinky and off into 'la curva sud' - home of the various Ultras factions, most of whom spend most of the time smoking dope and trying to get everyone else to sing instead of watching the match. According to my scarf I am allied to the Rude Fans, so I'd better watch where I stand. Rude Fans! We stick our tongues out at the opposition and never say pardon me when we burp....
Tomorrow it's Venezia vs Pistoiese
pics from venezia - padova (boo!)
NOWT!!
Got a season ticket for SSC Venezia, stars of Serie C1, actually I got it as a present for my birthday. €55.00 with a free hat and flag! That's like one ticket for Newcastle if you can find one! It's a good laugh the match here though, I went to one once a while back, where the ball went over the stands and into the lagoon. The pre-match warm up is good too:
Spritz in Bar Vittoria here in Mestre then on the bus (or motorbikes) to Venice, down to the fist bar on the Strada Nuova for a seafood risotto, a polpetta/piece of squid/prawn skewer and some cheap red plonk....and so begins the tour of the bacari (little bars) until we get to Rialto, then a few bits and pieces "alla botte" (a bar with excellent polpette) then off down to near St Mark's Square aqnd the pile onto the vaporetto to Sant' Elena where the stadium is.
Stadium is used in the loosest possible way, pile of planks on scaffolding is nearer to the truth.
Then a quick drinky and off into 'la curva sud' - home of the various Ultras factions, most of whom spend most of the time smoking dope and trying to get everyone else to sing instead of watching the match. According to my scarf I am allied to the Rude Fans, so I'd better watch where I stand. Rude Fans! We stick our tongues out at the opposition and never say pardon me when we burp....
Tomorrow it's Venezia vs Pistoiese
pics from venezia - padova (boo!)
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
a pea bird ear to me
happy birthday to me
happy birthday to me
happy birthday to me-eeeee
happy birthday to me
40 today :-|
the rotten buggers at work put balloons up on the front door so now all the kids and parents know. stil my little lot in class 5 brought in some cakes and pop so we had a party instead of maths.
which is only right i would say!
happy birthday to me
happy birthday to me-eeeee
happy birthday to me
40 today :-|
the rotten buggers at work put balloons up on the front door so now all the kids and parents know. stil my little lot in class 5 brought in some cakes and pop so we had a party instead of maths.
which is only right i would say!
Saturday, September 23, 2006
me seat ali aarrrggh"
it's a friday night and we've been watching 'miss italia' for what seems like three days now. sylvester stallone is the guest of honour and he looks like he is melting. it's been on since tea-time and now it's 23:50 and the poor bugger's been there with his translator the whole time, money for old rope her job mind you - "amo gli animali" - 'i love animals'; "voglio lavorare con bambini" - 'i want to work with children'; "volevo sposarmi con un giocatore della juve ma sono nella seria b adesso, quindi ho cambiato idea...ma vieri e' ancora single?" - 'i love animals'. only 3 phrases to translate.
hang on! hang on! all the lasses who've been elimated so far (24,376) are line dancing to a c&w remix\of "staying alive" - oh how i love italy!!!
well, i'm supposed to be working on the biography of stoke's greatest living anagram of a body of water but i've just been a bit distracted.
kind of hammered a bottle of valpolicella (zonin) - a cheap but pretty damn fine slurp from the coop, one of my favourites at the moment at about 4 euro it tastes much more expensive. at the moment i am supping a sangiovese di romagna, superiore, from the terre cevico stable. it too is a damn fine plonk and was in fact surprisingly strong enough of flavour to frollow the valpolicella. must dash, they're going to choose the winner of miss italia - oh the politically incorrectness of it all, the bikinis, the sheer fabric of the 'evening wear' - i reckon they put the air-conditioning on for two specific reasons.....
nope, wrong it was just an advert break.
been listening to a lot of ska recently, stuff from the late 70's early 80's, especially the selecter and the specials and earlier stuff like the skatalites and the old trojan record stable lot. 'train to skaville' by the ethiopians is getting worn out here followed by the same song done live by the selecter, in fact my new lose the belly regime seems to consist of moonstomping and skanking around the house whilst tidying up, doing the ironing and the like. building those shelves today wasn't easy mind and i had to put a bit of willard grant conspiracy on to ease the sweating. oh! and "it mek" by desmond\dekker is pretty good to peel potatoes to as well.
they made stallone act out the "adrienne!!" scene from rocky with one of the contestants - she was better than him!
hang on! hang on! all the lasses who've been elimated so far (24,376) are line dancing to a c&w remix\of "staying alive" - oh how i love italy!!!
well, i'm supposed to be working on the biography of stoke's greatest living anagram of a body of water but i've just been a bit distracted.
kind of hammered a bottle of valpolicella (zonin) - a cheap but pretty damn fine slurp from the coop, one of my favourites at the moment at about 4 euro it tastes much more expensive. at the moment i am supping a sangiovese di romagna, superiore, from the terre cevico stable. it too is a damn fine plonk and was in fact surprisingly strong enough of flavour to frollow the valpolicella. must dash, they're going to choose the winner of miss italia - oh the politically incorrectness of it all, the bikinis, the sheer fabric of the 'evening wear' - i reckon they put the air-conditioning on for two specific reasons.....
nope, wrong it was just an advert break.
been listening to a lot of ska recently, stuff from the late 70's early 80's, especially the selecter and the specials and earlier stuff like the skatalites and the old trojan record stable lot. 'train to skaville' by the ethiopians is getting worn out here followed by the same song done live by the selecter, in fact my new lose the belly regime seems to consist of moonstomping and skanking around the house whilst tidying up, doing the ironing and the like. building those shelves today wasn't easy mind and i had to put a bit of willard grant conspiracy on to ease the sweating. oh! and "it mek" by desmond\dekker is pretty good to peel potatoes to as well.
they made stallone act out the "adrienne!!" scene from rocky with one of the contestants - she was better than him!
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Eggbert Spoonbender.
Eggbert Spoonbender,
King of Teeth.
His interchangeable knee-boots
Made of jelied beef,
With his gargling chicken shirt
And fried egg mobile phone,
He's coming to a street near you.
Make sure your not at home.
Written as an example to Class 5 when they wher Class 4.
King of Teeth.
His interchangeable knee-boots
Made of jelied beef,
With his gargling chicken shirt
And fried egg mobile phone,
He's coming to a street near you.
Make sure your not at home.
Written as an example to Class 5 when they wher Class 4.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
back, front and sideways from the jollydaze
well dear reader,
the summer holiday is almost over and it's nearly time to go back to the grind. i've been off work since the end of june and i'm having difficulty remembering just what my job is! "but what has he been up to all that time?" i hear you say , followed by "my god his hearing's good!" then "and his imagination" then "hang on, i didn't think that!" and then "..or that! but my word i have in fact just thought all of that, and as i read i find that i am in fact thinking exactly what is written upon the screen. uncanny! the lad must have someof the magick powers about him, a touch of the ol' aleister crowley, or perhaps even the great doris 'i have a john coming through, is there a john in the hall' stokes."
and all of that is true.
interesting though, isn't it? how you never hear from doris stokes any more now that she's dead. you would have thought there would have been no stopping her popping across to fill us in on the goings on in limbo. (just try and explain that grammar to an italian doctor who insists on knowing the correct names for the grammatical elements before even trying to understand what is actually being said.) that part in brackets is of course optional.
so what have i been up to then? you know i have no idea! went to gateshead, home of the now defunct Isaac Tucker &Sons brewery. Isaac was me mam's great, great granda or something. in gateshead i met the startlingly trousered concrete poet of the potteries - monsieur sol nte. amazingly flexible for someone made of concrete i thought.
best thing i've seen in years - a very polite, if not a little timid too, gallery assistant at the BALTIC centre for contemporary arts (gateshead) trying to ram a motorcycle crash helmet onto sol's be-dreadlocked bonce and them him taking off slowly and unsteadily to do three laps of the gallery space on a tiny, mini-motorbike. i think i actually guffawed, and i thought that only victorian gentlemen did that.
what else? shaved all my hair off, drank a lot of whisky, got conjunctavitis, bought an new shirt, some new dr martens and some braces a shed load of cds and a computer game. yes a game! was sick of doing little and worrying about the fact that i thought that i'd might as well doing nothing constructively and in a way that the act of doing nothing and wasting my time actually took my mind off the fact that i was in fact doing nothing and wasting my time.
been listening to a lot of old ska from the 60's and the late 70's - i'd forgotten just how much i really like it and that to has helped take my mind off the fact that i have reached a bit of a sticky bit in the biopgraphy of sol nte (which is brilliant in parts!) in fact here are the last lines:
“And the others we make by carefully cutting out pictures from the Weekly Kebab and Curry Courier and making colour photocopies of them.”
see what i mean? well perhaps not. but i haven't written anything for weeks, i keep having ideas but never get around to fleshing them out. i'm on page 50 (A5 pages) and intend to send the whole thing to roger stevens for editing. seeing as how all he does is shuffle around in his BHS plaid slippers, sucking on a clay pipe, reciting humorous verse and rushing to do the vacuuming and wash the dishes before Jill gets in from work i reckon he'd be perfect. i suppose i should ask him first though....naaaaa! (hello roger !)
"...Ken’s wife Phyllis as she looked up to see a large woolly devotional candle which seemed to be trying to steal a falafel, encouraged by a priest; another scream from Sol as he realised that that stray spark theory has in fact a solid foundation; another scream from Phyllis as she realised that that wasn’t a falafel...
I'm having trouble keeping him out of prison.
I did spent nigh on 2 months working with Alison Knowles which was wonderful, but i've written about that...Oh i spent some time with mark bloch recently, we had an amble around venice together - very nice chappie. but what else? spent a lot of time playing with the hooligans who turned 2 on the 13th august. they had a great time in england. CARPETS! they have no fear and like jumping off high things.
well the hangover is hanging on...
over and out of it
"“What the hell am I going to do with a shiny lasagne?” he asked Hector Singh, head chef. Singh wasn’t really Hector’s surname, it was Sows but he thought that Singh sounded better, considering."
the summer holiday is almost over and it's nearly time to go back to the grind. i've been off work since the end of june and i'm having difficulty remembering just what my job is! "but what has he been up to all that time?" i hear you say , followed by "my god his hearing's good!" then "and his imagination" then "hang on, i didn't think that!" and then "..or that! but my word i have in fact just thought all of that, and as i read i find that i am in fact thinking exactly what is written upon the screen. uncanny! the lad must have someof the magick powers about him, a touch of the ol' aleister crowley, or perhaps even the great doris 'i have a john coming through, is there a john in the hall' stokes."
and all of that is true.
interesting though, isn't it? how you never hear from doris stokes any more now that she's dead. you would have thought there would have been no stopping her popping across to fill us in on the goings on in limbo. (just try and explain that grammar to an italian doctor who insists on knowing the correct names for the grammatical elements before even trying to understand what is actually being said.) that part in brackets is of course optional.
so what have i been up to then? you know i have no idea! went to gateshead, home of the now defunct Isaac Tucker &Sons brewery. Isaac was me mam's great, great granda or something. in gateshead i met the startlingly trousered concrete poet of the potteries - monsieur sol nte. amazingly flexible for someone made of concrete i thought.
best thing i've seen in years - a very polite, if not a little timid too, gallery assistant at the BALTIC centre for contemporary arts (gateshead) trying to ram a motorcycle crash helmet onto sol's be-dreadlocked bonce and them him taking off slowly and unsteadily to do three laps of the gallery space on a tiny, mini-motorbike. i think i actually guffawed, and i thought that only victorian gentlemen did that.
what else? shaved all my hair off, drank a lot of whisky, got conjunctavitis, bought an new shirt, some new dr martens and some braces a shed load of cds and a computer game. yes a game! was sick of doing little and worrying about the fact that i thought that i'd might as well doing nothing constructively and in a way that the act of doing nothing and wasting my time actually took my mind off the fact that i was in fact doing nothing and wasting my time.
been listening to a lot of old ska from the 60's and the late 70's - i'd forgotten just how much i really like it and that to has helped take my mind off the fact that i have reached a bit of a sticky bit in the biopgraphy of sol nte (which is brilliant in parts!) in fact here are the last lines:
“And the others we make by carefully cutting out pictures from the Weekly Kebab and Curry Courier and making colour photocopies of them.”
see what i mean? well perhaps not. but i haven't written anything for weeks, i keep having ideas but never get around to fleshing them out. i'm on page 50 (A5 pages) and intend to send the whole thing to roger stevens for editing. seeing as how all he does is shuffle around in his BHS plaid slippers, sucking on a clay pipe, reciting humorous verse and rushing to do the vacuuming and wash the dishes before Jill gets in from work i reckon he'd be perfect. i suppose i should ask him first though....naaaaa! (hello roger !)
"...Ken’s wife Phyllis as she looked up to see a large woolly devotional candle which seemed to be trying to steal a falafel, encouraged by a priest; another scream from Sol as he realised that that stray spark theory has in fact a solid foundation; another scream from Phyllis as she realised that that wasn’t a falafel...
I'm having trouble keeping him out of prison.
I did spent nigh on 2 months working with Alison Knowles which was wonderful, but i've written about that...Oh i spent some time with mark bloch recently, we had an amble around venice together - very nice chappie. but what else? spent a lot of time playing with the hooligans who turned 2 on the 13th august. they had a great time in england. CARPETS! they have no fear and like jumping off high things.
well the hangover is hanging on...
over and out of it
"“What the hell am I going to do with a shiny lasagne?” he asked Hector Singh, head chef. Singh wasn’t really Hector’s surname, it was Sows but he thought that Singh sounded better, considering."
Sunday, August 13, 2006
hippo birdie
aha! i am still here, just completely lacking in time and energy to write anything.
today was the boys' birthday, two years old already!
has anyone seen 'the wiggles'? what is THAT all about!?
did you have full consent to keep samples from ......?
of course, i checked with the solicitor.
you do realise the damage these cases can cause!
hello silvia.
i'm sorry its, what would you do.
i'd wait.
Friday, June 23, 2006
A Rake's Progress
Tonight we open the show Alison Knowles: Time Samples.
An Excerpt:
“Good afternoon sir!” said a thick set barman
sporting a thick set handlebar moustache,
corduroy car-coat, well oiled pedal-pushers and
a pair of ice skates.
“Good afternoon bar-keep!” said Sol, who’d
never seen a handlebar moustache before, well
not one with bell and dynamo lamp anyway.
“How can I help you?” asked the barman.
“I wonder if you can help me” asked Sol, “I am a
little lost, I am tired an hungry and would like to
rest a while. Perhaps I may take advantage of
the warmth of your hearth and if you have a
menu I’d be most pleased to peruse it.”
“You look tired and hungry my friend” offered
the barman, “And if I am not mistaken have the
look of a man lost, tired and hungry. Sit you
down, rest you, take advantage of our hearth,
perhaps you would like to take a gander at the
menu whilst you warm yourself.”
He led Sol to an armchair by the fire. Sol settled
his arm into the chair and waited as the barman
pulled up another armchair, a footstool, and a
headboard. Sol settled himself and sat on the
floor.
“You make yourself comfortable whilst you look
at the menu,” said the barman, “I have other
customers to attend to.”
“I see that you have other customers to attend to,”
said Sol. “I’ll just make myself comfortable and
look at the menu while I wait. Oh and by the
way, it would appear that your skates are
melting.”
Sol had the strangest feeling that the barman was
not only mumbling but in fact talking backwards
as he had not understood a word he had said.
Reaching into his travelling bag Sol pulled out his
reading monocle and looked at the menu. Turning
the menu the right way up he polished his monocle
on his shirt tail, making it completely unusable,
(seeing this however the barman did sneak up
and cut a small portion of Sol’s shirt tail off and
made his way quietly to the ‘Specials’ board,
where he added a new soup.) and was still
unable to read it. Squinting at the menu until his
good eye watered Sol simply could not make
head nor tail of what was written.
“This appears to be written in what I can only
assume to be ‘foreign’.” he thought. “Perhaps I am
near the docks.”
We'll be performing too.
It's all been a bit full on but it's come together nicely - it's a very beautiful and striking show, which I won't even try to explain or describe. Perhaps one day when I have time to breathe (and and ADSL line) I'll post some pics.
Our time together in Venice is drawing to a close, it has been wonderful. I'm not sure what I'm going to do now, I mean I'll have free time!
Spoil the boys, have a kip, finish the biography of Sol Nte what I am writing. I founf it the other night, and do you know, in parts it's actually quite good.
A bit like Sol really!
It's all been a bit full on but it's come together nicely - it's a very beautiful and striking show, which I won't even try to explain or describe. Perhaps one day when I have time to breathe (and and ADSL line) I'll post some pics.
Our time together in Venice is drawing to a close, it has been wonderful. I'm not sure what I'm going to do now, I mean I'll have free time!
Spoil the boys, have a kip, finish the biography of Sol Nte what I am writing. I founf it the other night, and do you know, in parts it's actually quite good.
A bit like Sol really!
An Excerpt:
“Good afternoon sir!” said a thick set barman
sporting a thick set handlebar moustache,
corduroy car-coat, well oiled pedal-pushers and
a pair of ice skates.
“Good afternoon bar-keep!” said Sol, who’d
never seen a handlebar moustache before, well
not one with bell and dynamo lamp anyway.
“How can I help you?” asked the barman.
“I wonder if you can help me” asked Sol, “I am a
little lost, I am tired an hungry and would like to
rest a while. Perhaps I may take advantage of
the warmth of your hearth and if you have a
menu I’d be most pleased to peruse it.”
“You look tired and hungry my friend” offered
the barman, “And if I am not mistaken have the
look of a man lost, tired and hungry. Sit you
down, rest you, take advantage of our hearth,
perhaps you would like to take a gander at the
menu whilst you warm yourself.”
He led Sol to an armchair by the fire. Sol settled
his arm into the chair and waited as the barman
pulled up another armchair, a footstool, and a
headboard. Sol settled himself and sat on the
floor.
“You make yourself comfortable whilst you look
at the menu,” said the barman, “I have other
customers to attend to.”
“I see that you have other customers to attend to,”
said Sol. “I’ll just make myself comfortable and
look at the menu while I wait. Oh and by the
way, it would appear that your skates are
melting.”
Sol had the strangest feeling that the barman was
not only mumbling but in fact talking backwards
as he had not understood a word he had said.
Reaching into his travelling bag Sol pulled out his
reading monocle and looked at the menu. Turning
the menu the right way up he polished his monocle
on his shirt tail, making it completely unusable,
(seeing this however the barman did sneak up
and cut a small portion of Sol’s shirt tail off and
made his way quietly to the ‘Specials’ board,
where he added a new soup.) and was still
unable to read it. Squinting at the menu until his
good eye watered Sol simply could not make
head nor tail of what was written.
“This appears to be written in what I can only
assume to be ‘foreign’.” he thought. “Perhaps I am
near the docks.”
Monday, June 12, 2006
The onion skin song and other such things
it's been a very hectic few weeks dear reader, very hectic indeed. the end of the academic year brings exam preparation, reports, a monstrous cold-sore and a very surreal happening.
over the past couple of weeks i have been working, as normal, at work. teaching the children of class 4 and shouting maths at class 5 whilst eating cinnamon beans. after work and at weekends i have been working with alison knowles, helping to prepare for a performance, which will take place this evening at museo fortuny in venice, and setting up her show entitled "Time Pieces" at the Emily Harvey Foundation, again in venice. We also had to put together a prototype of a piece which will adorn a window of the Villa Buttafava, somewhere near Milan. actually alison put it to gether, i glued it down.
all of this has been relatively straightforward, with the exception of bill stone's video, and gone really rather smoothly for venice.
tonight we will perform alison knowles' 'loose pages', 'onion skin song' and 'shoes of your choice', ay-o's "rainbow", and a couple of pieces which slip my mind. a slippery mind is, alas something that i've had to live with since that first pint of scotch. it's all sort of organised to take off at 6.30 gmt+1 of the afternoon clock and will do so in a most spectacular room - an enormous and crumbling sala of a 15th century palazzo. empty apart from a couple of wardrobes and a large filing cabinet, we will perfom in the centre of the space. props are a 1m squared white podium and a microphone, saran wrap, onion skins, two pages of the score of 'the barber of seville', round bean turner, red bean turner, wooden pecking birds and the 'loose pages' portfolio. after there will be wine!
the surreal happening was this however:
i, through one thing and another i was really behind with the school reports for class 4 - and not a little stressed! alison knowles had expressed an interest in coming into school to meet the kids. so i got it arranged and in she came. she talked about beans and books and the kids talked about their experiences with beans and the books they were making and a very interesting session took place. the children were rapt and even began to write haiku about what was going on. i in the meantime was flying around, purple and sweating, trying to get everything ready for 4p.m.
at one point i looked up from the envelopes i was addressing and saw that alison knowles - an artist who i had studied at university, who i'd never even dreamt of meeting was now in my classroom, teaching my class, effectively saving my backside whilst i did all the stuff i should have done at least a week previously!
weird!
over the past couple of weeks i have been working, as normal, at work. teaching the children of class 4 and shouting maths at class 5 whilst eating cinnamon beans. after work and at weekends i have been working with alison knowles, helping to prepare for a performance, which will take place this evening at museo fortuny in venice, and setting up her show entitled "Time Pieces" at the Emily Harvey Foundation, again in venice. We also had to put together a prototype of a piece which will adorn a window of the Villa Buttafava, somewhere near Milan. actually alison put it to gether, i glued it down.
all of this has been relatively straightforward, with the exception of bill stone's video, and gone really rather smoothly for venice.
tonight we will perform alison knowles' 'loose pages', 'onion skin song' and 'shoes of your choice', ay-o's "rainbow", and a couple of pieces which slip my mind. a slippery mind is, alas something that i've had to live with since that first pint of scotch. it's all sort of organised to take off at 6.30 gmt+1 of the afternoon clock and will do so in a most spectacular room - an enormous and crumbling sala of a 15th century palazzo. empty apart from a couple of wardrobes and a large filing cabinet, we will perfom in the centre of the space. props are a 1m squared white podium and a microphone, saran wrap, onion skins, two pages of the score of 'the barber of seville', round bean turner, red bean turner, wooden pecking birds and the 'loose pages' portfolio. after there will be wine!
the surreal happening was this however:
i, through one thing and another i was really behind with the school reports for class 4 - and not a little stressed! alison knowles had expressed an interest in coming into school to meet the kids. so i got it arranged and in she came. she talked about beans and books and the kids talked about their experiences with beans and the books they were making and a very interesting session took place. the children were rapt and even began to write haiku about what was going on. i in the meantime was flying around, purple and sweating, trying to get everything ready for 4p.m.
at one point i looked up from the envelopes i was addressing and saw that alison knowles - an artist who i had studied at university, who i'd never even dreamt of meeting was now in my classroom, teaching my class, effectively saving my backside whilst i did all the stuff i should have done at least a week previously!
weird!
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Alison Knowles
Alison Knowles phoned this evening, to ask me to perform with her in Venice.
That was a surprise.
And qite possible the most interesting thing thats happened around the old FFFO HQ for a looong time.
You can see the medication is doing its job by the sheer dullness of these posts.
I'm not sure how I feel about that! Sometimes I wonder if the sacrifices I make to stay 'balanced' are really worth it - the things I'm unable to do when I feel OK make me feel bad, but the medication stops me from feeling so bad that I can actually produce the stuff I do when I don't feel so good, and sonit goes around.
I bore myself!
That was a surprise.
And qite possible the most interesting thing thats happened around the old FFFO HQ for a looong time.
You can see the medication is doing its job by the sheer dullness of these posts.
I'm not sure how I feel about that! Sometimes I wonder if the sacrifices I make to stay 'balanced' are really worth it - the things I'm unable to do when I feel OK make me feel bad, but the medication stops me from feeling so bad that I can actually produce the stuff I do when I don't feel so good, and sonit goes around.
I bore myself!
late
I found this on me desktop, I obviously finished the wine before getting round to posting....
Busy preparing an asparagus risotto, accompanied by my "Testpiecesymphoney", yes I do spell symphoney like that for a reason. Just opened a 'Trebbiana do Romagna" which was on special - and is, if I may say a rather pleasantly fruity little number. Not actually taht bad considering what I paid for it - the sheer embarrassment of its cheapness prevents me from communicting figures here, but it was stupidly cheap. OK, Ok it's not a wine of any great note, but it's pretty good for €1.70.
Oh dear....
I've also just opened a bottle of "Sangiovese di Romagna". Oh there's a bit of my symphoney that sounds just like Lou Reed's 'street hassle', but slower ande a bit indianish. Anyway the Sangiovese is a little rougher, but still not bad for the pittance I paid.
May the gods bless the Coop and it's special offers for the poor of the parish!
Mind you, all of this follows two pints of beer and two sprizz (White wine, 'Select' - the local, slightly less bitter version of 'Campari' and fizzy water. The local aperativo you can have with Aperol or Campari too.)
So the old neurons in charge of the tasty buddlers may not be in perfect sync.
I may let you know later what the risotto was like. If it is as good as the hummus I made for lunch I'll be happy. But hopefully I won't fall asleep and wake up with a mouth that feels like it's beencarpeted with garlic flavoured felt.
I love asparagus, despite the italian fixation that it makes your pee smell bad. I mean, do we really know anyone whose pee smells good? Yes I know that some of you like these things, but in general......?
Busy preparing an asparagus risotto, accompanied by my "Testpiecesymphoney", yes I do spell symphoney like that for a reason. Just opened a 'Trebbiana do Romagna" which was on special - and is, if I may say a rather pleasantly fruity little number. Not actually taht bad considering what I paid for it - the sheer embarrassment of its cheapness prevents me from communicting figures here, but it was stupidly cheap. OK, Ok it's not a wine of any great note, but it's pretty good for €1.70.
Oh dear....
I've also just opened a bottle of "Sangiovese di Romagna". Oh there's a bit of my symphoney that sounds just like Lou Reed's 'street hassle', but slower ande a bit indianish. Anyway the Sangiovese is a little rougher, but still not bad for the pittance I paid.
May the gods bless the Coop and it's special offers for the poor of the parish!
Mind you, all of this follows two pints of beer and two sprizz (White wine, 'Select' - the local, slightly less bitter version of 'Campari' and fizzy water. The local aperativo you can have with Aperol or Campari too.)
So the old neurons in charge of the tasty buddlers may not be in perfect sync.
I may let you know later what the risotto was like. If it is as good as the hummus I made for lunch I'll be happy. But hopefully I won't fall asleep and wake up with a mouth that feels like it's beencarpeted with garlic flavoured felt.
I love asparagus, despite the italian fixation that it makes your pee smell bad. I mean, do we really know anyone whose pee smells good? Yes I know that some of you like these things, but in general......?
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
The Trip
My goodness it's been a long time dear reader! I simply just have not had the time to write anything here for ages. Actually the fact that I haven't actually done anything anywhere for ages doesn't help either.
A couple of weeks ago I went to the UK, to the Lakeside Y.M.C.A National Centre on Lake Windermere, with 18 kids from the school - age range 10 - 14 years old.
I must be mental!
The place is well groovy, really beautiful, clean, great staff, well organised - but the kids were another kettle of fish - and not just for the smell. For the journey (Venice - Zurich, Zurich - Manchester) my colleague and I kept all the kids' documents, except for when they had to show them to passport control/immigration etc. In Venice airport I found £30 and two passports in Zurich! Luckily the passports had photos and names, everyone denied losing the 30 quid! But, alas I is a honest fellow and persisted - still waiting for a thank you from the bambino who was nearly 50 euros out of pocket. About four minutes after arriving in Manchester I found another couple of documents, one perched neatly on the toilet roll holder in the bogs before passport control. By the time we'd got to the motorway service station for something to eat I'd found two mp3 players. Later in the week I found an iPod, which was in my pocket for a day or two - nobody missed it! I remember losing me 10p dinner money one day at school, I was ill with worry. 10p was quite a lot in 1976 but it was more for the fact that I'd been trusted to look after it and I'd failed.
If you ignore the arrogant and spoilt behaviour, the refusal to listen to instructors carefully, the inability to self-organise (e.g. set an alarm clock - 1 per room of 6 children), and to pick up after themselves, the inability to accept an instruction such as "tidy away the cups please" without questioning it, ...
then it was a good week.
We went canoeing, kayaking, climbing, walking, did some archery, orienteering, went on a boat trip on the lake across to Bowness, did some shopping, ate loads of sweeties, played football, went swimming in the lake (madness!) and completely failed to complete ANY of the teambuilding, initiative tests (that speaks volumes)
....TBC as the lunch bell has just gone
A couple of weeks ago I went to the UK, to the Lakeside Y.M.C.A National Centre on Lake Windermere, with 18 kids from the school - age range 10 - 14 years old.
I must be mental!
The place is well groovy, really beautiful, clean, great staff, well organised - but the kids were another kettle of fish - and not just for the smell. For the journey (Venice - Zurich, Zurich - Manchester) my colleague and I kept all the kids' documents, except for when they had to show them to passport control/immigration etc. In Venice airport I found £30 and two passports in Zurich! Luckily the passports had photos and names, everyone denied losing the 30 quid! But, alas I is a honest fellow and persisted - still waiting for a thank you from the bambino who was nearly 50 euros out of pocket. About four minutes after arriving in Manchester I found another couple of documents, one perched neatly on the toilet roll holder in the bogs before passport control. By the time we'd got to the motorway service station for something to eat I'd found two mp3 players. Later in the week I found an iPod, which was in my pocket for a day or two - nobody missed it! I remember losing me 10p dinner money one day at school, I was ill with worry. 10p was quite a lot in 1976 but it was more for the fact that I'd been trusted to look after it and I'd failed.
If you ignore the arrogant and spoilt behaviour, the refusal to listen to instructors carefully, the inability to self-organise (e.g. set an alarm clock - 1 per room of 6 children), and to pick up after themselves, the inability to accept an instruction such as "tidy away the cups please" without questioning it, ...
then it was a good week.
We went canoeing, kayaking, climbing, walking, did some archery, orienteering, went on a boat trip on the lake across to Bowness, did some shopping, ate loads of sweeties, played football, went swimming in the lake (madness!) and completely failed to complete ANY of the teambuilding, initiative tests (that speaks volumes)
....TBC as the lunch bell has just gone
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
barcelona-milan
damn!
i'd just finished a very good offline entry, ready to cut and paste here, when......
notepad froze! NOTEPAD!!!! i mean that just doesn't happen!
anyway i had writen all about what was happening in te barcelona - milan game, a woman in a black dress, the first mosquito kill of the year and how i was planning to change the spellings of first and least to firts and leats as they seem easier to type.
anyway milan are out of the champions. so hopefully arenal will beat villa real and we'll have a decent final.
pity you can't read the rest of what i'd written, it was really good.
i'd just finished a very good offline entry, ready to cut and paste here, when......
notepad froze! NOTEPAD!!!! i mean that just doesn't happen!
anyway i had writen all about what was happening in te barcelona - milan game, a woman in a black dress, the first mosquito kill of the year and how i was planning to change the spellings of first and least to firts and leats as they seem easier to type.
anyway milan are out of the champions. so hopefully arenal will beat villa real and we'll have a decent final.
pity you can't read the rest of what i'd written, it was really good.
Friday, April 21, 2006
lurgies
spent the past two weeks with the hacking glob expurgers, the explungding lungs and the nostril glueshutters. and just as i thought i'd got rid of them along came the raging dollops, the gut crinkers and the ringstingers from hell. my grips were cribbled and my hrenks nonconflunchulated.
but i lost quite a bit of me belly
but i lost quite a bit of me belly
Monday, April 10, 2006
THE GREAT MESTRE YOGHURT EXPLOSION OF 2006
Dan looked at Joe, his natural yoghurt and honey, cavalier's moustache glinting in the light of the kitchen lamp. Joe returned the look, a glint and more than just a hint of dairy product in his eye, nose, ears and hair.
"BOB!" they shouted in unison.
"Na na" cried Dan pointing to the devastation which had once been a cheap, but clean and functional worksurface, "Na na, nana naa naaa!"
"BOB!" added Joe launching an 'Anyway Up Cup' with the skill akin to that of a fully paid up member of the Black Block brick Throwers Union.
"BOB!" and away went a spoon.
"NANA!" followed by his sticky sibling's proof of skill with the Surprise Dessert Dish Lob.
And the curtains were pencilled in for an earlier than scheduled wash.
"BOB!" they shouted in unison.
"Na na" cried Dan pointing to the devastation which had once been a cheap, but clean and functional worksurface, "Na na, nana naa naaa!"
"BOB!" added Joe launching an 'Anyway Up Cup' with the skill akin to that of a fully paid up member of the Black Block brick Throwers Union.
"BOB!" and away went a spoon.
"NANA!" followed by his sticky sibling's proof of skill with the Surprise Dessert Dish Lob.
And the curtains were pencilled in for an earlier than scheduled wash.
TOMMASO
sunday 9th april
i don't know if this story made the headlines outside of italy but;
yesterday was the live, televised funeral of an 18 month old baby, tommaso. i didn't watch as i simply don't like the organised hysteria, the weeping and wailing and people applauding coffins. i guess that's a cultural thing, i'm from a working class, northern english background, from a very close and loving family but one which perhaps has a different ideas to what i see here in italy. different ideas of respect and the like in the case of a loss, a death, hat is sure. for example - a banal and insignificant thing but interesting to me all the same. a short time ago the grandmother of a very close friend passed away. iwas not particularly close to the 'signora', my partner however was and the old lady was close to my children. anyway nic couldn't make the funeral but i could, so naturally i attended. a catholic mass. i am not religious in any way and have certain issues with the catholic church in particular but that would in no way stop me from attending the funeral, i simply had to, as a mark of respect to the lady and as a gesture of friendship and support to my friends. i went to church in black suit, white shirt, black tie - as is 'tradition' in our part of the world, i couldn't contemplate otherwise.
the interesting things was that everyone else was dreesed very casually, jeans, tee-shirts, leather bomber jackets - comfortable and i suppose practical clothes, the funeral lasts a couple of hours then life returns to normal for most of the attendees. i felt very out of place, i felt 'wrong'. however one of the major comments, apart from the nice service, was about the elegant gentleman in the suit. apparently the family was very moved at the gesture. moved at the very obvious gesture of respect whereas i felt most uncomfortably over dressed, like i'd made a gaffe - but i couldn't contemplate attending dressed otherwise.
cultural differences - my attire was strange to, yet most appreciated by the italians, and was, personally obligatory yet strangely uncomfortable to me. as they say here...."Boh!?"
anyway Tommaso.
tommaso was kidnapped a month ago, a month in which we followed the search for him and his kidnappers daily, only to find out in the end that he'd been clubbed to death hours after the kidnapping, because he was crying! they panicked apparently - poor bastards it must have been a terrible strain... no-one knows the true story, the mafia has been mentioned, the father was involved, the father wasn't involved, the killer's wife was most certainly involved - the mother of a 6 year old with heart problems who is now in the public eye. the italian media are a bunch of hysteria-mongering shits if you ask me. tonights news brought it to our attention that this little boy, if he survives his ailments will be forever branded as his father's son and effecually ostracised by society.
he's six for goodness sake! if we brand him now it's obvious he'll be forever in the shadow of his father's crime. in my opinion we should have been informed of his existence, he's going to live with relatives in sicily where hopefully he'll find love, support and a good home. although according to the news the village where his relatives live is a typical small town where children are held accountable for the rights and wrongs of the family - now they all know he's going there!
according to the journalists of TG5, hopefully he'll eventually be able to move away to a big city where he, with his common surname will be able to blend into the background, become anonymous.
brilliant!
absolutely fucking brilliant!
they could have just respected his right, as a 6 year old, to remain anonymous now instead of planting the seed of potential stupidity into the heads of the potentially stupid - a dangerous mix.
tommaso was 18 months old, my boys are just two months older than him. and i worry, not about them - i simply don't have that panic about the baby system set up in me, ( i watch them like a hawk, but from a safe distance. i worry about their futures, in case they turn out like me. i'll consider it a serious personal failure as a parent if they end up with my fears and nervous problems.) i worry about myself - insomuch as what i feel should be done to the murderers of Tommaso, if it was them of course. there's a gut instinct in me which has gradually emerged over the past few years, which i don't like that much as it often involves making people who commit vile crimes, pay a suitable price. i would quite happily kick the shit out of someone who harmed my family (ANY of my family). I couldn't kill. I know that for sure, or do real physical damage - psychological damage yes however - perhaps i am a real bastard..?
i'm just not as easy going as i was. mind you i used to feel no remorse about flattening someone who pushed me on the dancefloor or joining in a ruck against the wankers who where giving us lip for having long hair. but that all passed, or so i thought.
bah!
another unfinished ramble.
at least i'm consistent eh?
Tommaso, i couldn't read about you in the papers and i couldn't find it in me to watch that much on t.v. but it doesn't mean i don't care.
peace.
i don't know if this story made the headlines outside of italy but;
yesterday was the live, televised funeral of an 18 month old baby, tommaso. i didn't watch as i simply don't like the organised hysteria, the weeping and wailing and people applauding coffins. i guess that's a cultural thing, i'm from a working class, northern english background, from a very close and loving family but one which perhaps has a different ideas to what i see here in italy. different ideas of respect and the like in the case of a loss, a death, hat is sure. for example - a banal and insignificant thing but interesting to me all the same. a short time ago the grandmother of a very close friend passed away. iwas not particularly close to the 'signora', my partner however was and the old lady was close to my children. anyway nic couldn't make the funeral but i could, so naturally i attended. a catholic mass. i am not religious in any way and have certain issues with the catholic church in particular but that would in no way stop me from attending the funeral, i simply had to, as a mark of respect to the lady and as a gesture of friendship and support to my friends. i went to church in black suit, white shirt, black tie - as is 'tradition' in our part of the world, i couldn't contemplate otherwise.
the interesting things was that everyone else was dreesed very casually, jeans, tee-shirts, leather bomber jackets - comfortable and i suppose practical clothes, the funeral lasts a couple of hours then life returns to normal for most of the attendees. i felt very out of place, i felt 'wrong'. however one of the major comments, apart from the nice service, was about the elegant gentleman in the suit. apparently the family was very moved at the gesture. moved at the very obvious gesture of respect whereas i felt most uncomfortably over dressed, like i'd made a gaffe - but i couldn't contemplate attending dressed otherwise.
cultural differences - my attire was strange to, yet most appreciated by the italians, and was, personally obligatory yet strangely uncomfortable to me. as they say here...."Boh!?"
anyway Tommaso.
tommaso was kidnapped a month ago, a month in which we followed the search for him and his kidnappers daily, only to find out in the end that he'd been clubbed to death hours after the kidnapping, because he was crying! they panicked apparently - poor bastards it must have been a terrible strain... no-one knows the true story, the mafia has been mentioned, the father was involved, the father wasn't involved, the killer's wife was most certainly involved - the mother of a 6 year old with heart problems who is now in the public eye. the italian media are a bunch of hysteria-mongering shits if you ask me. tonights news brought it to our attention that this little boy, if he survives his ailments will be forever branded as his father's son and effecually ostracised by society.
he's six for goodness sake! if we brand him now it's obvious he'll be forever in the shadow of his father's crime. in my opinion we should have been informed of his existence, he's going to live with relatives in sicily where hopefully he'll find love, support and a good home. although according to the news the village where his relatives live is a typical small town where children are held accountable for the rights and wrongs of the family - now they all know he's going there!
according to the journalists of TG5, hopefully he'll eventually be able to move away to a big city where he, with his common surname will be able to blend into the background, become anonymous.
brilliant!
absolutely fucking brilliant!
they could have just respected his right, as a 6 year old, to remain anonymous now instead of planting the seed of potential stupidity into the heads of the potentially stupid - a dangerous mix.
tommaso was 18 months old, my boys are just two months older than him. and i worry, not about them - i simply don't have that panic about the baby system set up in me, ( i watch them like a hawk, but from a safe distance. i worry about their futures, in case they turn out like me. i'll consider it a serious personal failure as a parent if they end up with my fears and nervous problems.) i worry about myself - insomuch as what i feel should be done to the murderers of Tommaso, if it was them of course. there's a gut instinct in me which has gradually emerged over the past few years, which i don't like that much as it often involves making people who commit vile crimes, pay a suitable price. i would quite happily kick the shit out of someone who harmed my family (ANY of my family). I couldn't kill. I know that for sure, or do real physical damage - psychological damage yes however - perhaps i am a real bastard..?
i'm just not as easy going as i was. mind you i used to feel no remorse about flattening someone who pushed me on the dancefloor or joining in a ruck against the wankers who where giving us lip for having long hair. but that all passed, or so i thought.
bah!
another unfinished ramble.
at least i'm consistent eh?
Tommaso, i couldn't read about you in the papers and i couldn't find it in me to watch that much on t.v. but it doesn't mean i don't care.
peace.
ten more wonder(if)s of the world
saturday 8th april, afternoon
i wonder if they'll ever realise that red wine is nearer purple
i wonder if they'll ever realise that red grapes, for the most part, really are purple
i wonder if i've just wasted two 'i wonder ifs'
i wonder if i've just saved my self the bother of having to really wonder if 3 times
i wonder if you bottom really would fall of if you untied your belly button
i wonder if you could exchange 'belly button' for 'a knot in the stomach' - "i was so worried i couldn't eat for the belly button"
i wonder, if i could have made that funnier - why didn't i?
i wonder if the people who say they really care, really do and if the people who say they really don't care, really don't. from experience i don't think so
i wonder if i knew what it was that was eating up and driving me on, whether it would still continue to eat me up and whether i'd let myself be driven on
i wonder i'm just not built for this world i live in. i try. i want to be able to just get on with things, lead a normal, peaceful life, look after my family, do my job as well as i can. but there's just somethings that simply seems out to sabotage everyhing i do - like i said churchill had his black dogs (led zeppelin had one too if i'm not mistaken) - luccky bugger, at least his took on a constant, identifiable form. they are most present at moments of success. and that includes getting the shopping done without major confusion.
and there you go.....it's gone again, the ol' devil caled concentration....
x
i wonder if they'll ever realise that red wine is nearer purple
i wonder if they'll ever realise that red grapes, for the most part, really are purple
i wonder if i've just wasted two 'i wonder ifs'
i wonder if i've just saved my self the bother of having to really wonder if 3 times
i wonder if you bottom really would fall of if you untied your belly button
i wonder if you could exchange 'belly button' for 'a knot in the stomach' - "i was so worried i couldn't eat for the belly button"
i wonder, if i could have made that funnier - why didn't i?
i wonder if the people who say they really care, really do and if the people who say they really don't care, really don't. from experience i don't think so
i wonder if i knew what it was that was eating up and driving me on, whether it would still continue to eat me up and whether i'd let myself be driven on
i wonder i'm just not built for this world i live in. i try. i want to be able to just get on with things, lead a normal, peaceful life, look after my family, do my job as well as i can. but there's just somethings that simply seems out to sabotage everyhing i do - like i said churchill had his black dogs (led zeppelin had one too if i'm not mistaken) - luccky bugger, at least his took on a constant, identifiable form. they are most present at moments of success. and that includes getting the shopping done without major confusion.
and there you go.....it's gone again, the ol' devil caled concentration....
x
the mysteries of non fried maize snack stuffs
saturday 8th april, afternoon
why do they put powdered cheese in fonzies(tm), when there are perfectly good chemicals out there that actually do taste like cheese?
why do they put powdered cheese in fonzies(tm), when there are perfectly good chemicals out there that actually do taste like cheese?
a packet of singing peas perhaps
saturday 8th april, afternoon
well then, just polished off a nice bottle of Corvo - a mid-priced (supermarket) sicilian red. A mix of Nero d'Avola, Nerello Mascalese and Pignatello if my tasty buds do not deceive me, or my eyesight for that matter as i'm trying to read the label through very dirty glasses. when the old blood pressure goes up the old lamp oil goes down it would seem. By Odin's wode clad wooden britches! i've reached an age where one has to remove ones spectacles to read. i live in fear of the arrival of the bifocal. instead i propose that all books be printed bigger, packaged foodstuffs to come with a sound chip (like those awful singing birthday cards) which reads out the ingredients and additives and potential side effects of the comestible under scrutiny and that televisions come with prescription screens.
well then, just polished off a nice bottle of Corvo - a mid-priced (supermarket) sicilian red. A mix of Nero d'Avola, Nerello Mascalese and Pignatello if my tasty buds do not deceive me, or my eyesight for that matter as i'm trying to read the label through very dirty glasses. when the old blood pressure goes up the old lamp oil goes down it would seem. By Odin's wode clad wooden britches! i've reached an age where one has to remove ones spectacles to read. i live in fear of the arrival of the bifocal. instead i propose that all books be printed bigger, packaged foodstuffs to come with a sound chip (like those awful singing birthday cards) which reads out the ingredients and additives and potential side effects of the comestible under scrutiny and that televisions come with prescription screens.
Transduzionielations
friday 7th april p.m.
been doing some translations for a website on music from the mediaeval/renaissance periods - at least that's what i think it is! my part had nothing to do with the music side, just all terms and conditions, privacy and copyright policies, technical stuff on how to use the site and all that. i just needed MORE work!
on top of the day job i've got two private courses, the biography of the world famous and highly acclaimed deaf kneed lothario and erstwhile stick whittling champion, sol nte. the man who discovered the trick to deciphering the baltic tongue by simply walking backwards, and whose sixty year taxi ride back from red square is stuff of legend, second only to his orange trousers.
then -
i've been trying to sift through the quagmire which is the freeformfreakout organisation archived materials dept. having once missed the 's' off i found my self knee-deep in second-hand military twill and camphor scented taffeta. after a week of intense dressing up i decided to go to the materials archive and dig out the scores which had been requested for inclusion in the Fluxus Performance Workbook.
to be published who knows where and who knows when, if ever - but at least it made me look at some stuff.
HOW MUCH CRAP IS THERE KNOCKING AROUND THE FFFO?
i took a directorial decision not to edit for fear of actually throwing everything out. i did decide however to have the quagmire of an archive dried and turned into rubble, which is bay far easier to sift through. then, i'm supposed to be producing a Historical Atlas of Fluxlist for which I have recieved two pieces, and i think they're about the same person. i haven't finished mine yet either. then there's a major, and top secret, project underway. a collaborative affair with another who has recently been struck down with a touch of glumness and the neuhaus nadger shrinking stresses. then there's the music. i really have to do the acoustic interpretations stuff or i fear i may go crackers. and the electronic stuff needs to be practised and i need to learn more than Dmaj, Dmin, D7 and C on the keyboard. then i've been asked to provide a soundtrack for a short video - which i really want to do - just that when i try and contact the artist, she's not there.
oh, and there's my life as well. one twin has the gurgling hurlies and the other the is in training for the World Wooden Toy Throwing Championships.
been doing some translations for a website on music from the mediaeval/renaissance periods - at least that's what i think it is! my part had nothing to do with the music side, just all terms and conditions, privacy and copyright policies, technical stuff on how to use the site and all that. i just needed MORE work!
on top of the day job i've got two private courses, the biography of the world famous and highly acclaimed deaf kneed lothario and erstwhile stick whittling champion, sol nte. the man who discovered the trick to deciphering the baltic tongue by simply walking backwards, and whose sixty year taxi ride back from red square is stuff of legend, second only to his orange trousers.
then -
i've been trying to sift through the quagmire which is the freeformfreakout organisation archived materials dept. having once missed the 's' off i found my self knee-deep in second-hand military twill and camphor scented taffeta. after a week of intense dressing up i decided to go to the materials archive and dig out the scores which had been requested for inclusion in the Fluxus Performance Workbook.
to be published who knows where and who knows when, if ever - but at least it made me look at some stuff.
HOW MUCH CRAP IS THERE KNOCKING AROUND THE FFFO?
i took a directorial decision not to edit for fear of actually throwing everything out. i did decide however to have the quagmire of an archive dried and turned into rubble, which is bay far easier to sift through. then, i'm supposed to be producing a Historical Atlas of Fluxlist for which I have recieved two pieces, and i think they're about the same person. i haven't finished mine yet either. then there's a major, and top secret, project underway. a collaborative affair with another who has recently been struck down with a touch of glumness and the neuhaus nadger shrinking stresses. then there's the music. i really have to do the acoustic interpretations stuff or i fear i may go crackers. and the electronic stuff needs to be practised and i need to learn more than Dmaj, Dmin, D7 and C on the keyboard. then i've been asked to provide a soundtrack for a short video - which i really want to do - just that when i try and contact the artist, she's not there.
oh, and there's my life as well. one twin has the gurgling hurlies and the other the is in training for the World Wooden Toy Throwing Championships.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Thursday, March 23, 2006
louder e....
two sundays ago we went t see lou reed in concert in pordenone, friuli venezia giulia.
by the great gods of valhalla, what a gig! i've always liked the velvet underground and lou reed's music, but i've never bee a 'fan'. in fact thinking about it most of the lou reed stuff i know is from that group of 'classics'. (I loathe Sunday Morning and I'm not that keen on Walk on the Wild Side, but the rest - well it's OK)
But this gig, woooah! A load of stuff I'd never heard (apart from the lame encore of Sweet Jane). the theatre was small, even near the back row we were near the stage, near enough to see the wrinkles! Lou Reed came on stage like an old, old man, holding his back like me on a cold, damp, venetian morning - but he played like a very young man. amazing to see and doubly amazing to hear.
two basses, two guitars and one hell of a drummer, drones and feedback, bowed electric viola (?) and ear shattering volume, trance enducing riffs and all that sort of really hard to explain stuff.
amazing.
amazing.
i was converted, well encouraged to go and listen to the lou reed stuff i have. i discovered that i have 3 or 4 discs that i didn't know i had! yep, i am that much of a fan! i found good stuff!
what IS interesting though (apart from the fact that at 39 I was among one of the youngest in the audience at a rock concert, my gosh! i've started to call them concerts instead of gigs! nurse the sanatogen!!!) is that i realised that i play the guitar very much like lou reed. ok he may be a little better than me, but style wise and in fact chord-wise. interesting as because guitaristically (!) i've never really referred to lou reed, keith richards, peter buck possibly. actually just thinking now, io don't really have a guitar hero or any particular influence - the stones probably are the most significant, but the rest ...? i play the way I do because i never took a lesson and still, after 20 years i still struggle to recognise anything but the major chords. and i tend to play my own chord structures - wrong fingering etc. sound cool but its a bloody nightmare when i have to play with another, competent, guitarist - one who actually knows what they're doing. however the stuff daniele and i knock out in the rehearsal room is a lot like the stuff i saw on stage that sunday. we is good at the old psychdronemelodicrepetativeriff thing - makes me want to get a band together, and do it my way for a change. i saw someone doing something similar to what ive knocked out for a long time, albeit at a much poorer level, but still could be interesting here in mestre where there's never been a market for what i like to do. makes me want to do it all the more, and now that i am a mature, sensible father, makes me want to do it all the more!
anyway, that was all a bit irrelevant...
lou reed, amazing!
did i say that?
i liked the way that it wasn't a 'spectacle', the sounded like a garage band, wobbly levels, too much bass at times, solos that drowned the rest of the band, but it all worked - even to my hyper critical ear.
bah! here we go, another time when i try to explain myself and then just when i get a little way into it, i lose the thread and it all goes mushy.
still if they will sell 5 litres of pinot nero for €6!
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
barking!
well they're finally here.
clawing at my stomach and my lungs, sitting on my chest, filling their pockets with lead shot so as to slowly crush the very breath out of me. those faceless, shapeless shadows which dog my every move. sly bastards who don't even have the decency to hide properly, to just give me a chance once in a while, a headstart to let me see if i can finally out run them.
they pretend to give me a headstart, but there's always one or two of them hiding right out in the open in places so obvious that in my naive stupidity i simple don't see them. and then,
"oops, did you trip?"
people come and go. friends and family come and visit and it's lovely. but i'm at a point now where i can't enjoy the company properly. over the past 8 years visitors have come out and gone home again and each time they take a little of my spirit with them. nowadays i find it so difficult to have visitors for the sheer fear of them leaving again, in a way it's easier to not see people, but that is too horrible too.
winston churchill used to have black dogs that came after him in his moments of depression. i wish mine were dogs, at least i could try and throw them a bone.
my brain's stopped working. all i can see is a mess of letters on a screen, all i can see is a mess of words in my head. the noise of the heater and the computer is interfering with my concentration, if the phone rings i fear i could collapse.
so i'll stop, i can't get out what i'm trying to say anyway.
clawing at my stomach and my lungs, sitting on my chest, filling their pockets with lead shot so as to slowly crush the very breath out of me. those faceless, shapeless shadows which dog my every move. sly bastards who don't even have the decency to hide properly, to just give me a chance once in a while, a headstart to let me see if i can finally out run them.
they pretend to give me a headstart, but there's always one or two of them hiding right out in the open in places so obvious that in my naive stupidity i simple don't see them. and then,
"oops, did you trip?"
people come and go. friends and family come and visit and it's lovely. but i'm at a point now where i can't enjoy the company properly. over the past 8 years visitors have come out and gone home again and each time they take a little of my spirit with them. nowadays i find it so difficult to have visitors for the sheer fear of them leaving again, in a way it's easier to not see people, but that is too horrible too.
winston churchill used to have black dogs that came after him in his moments of depression. i wish mine were dogs, at least i could try and throw them a bone.
my brain's stopped working. all i can see is a mess of letters on a screen, all i can see is a mess of words in my head. the noise of the heater and the computer is interfering with my concentration, if the phone rings i fear i could collapse.
so i'll stop, i can't get out what i'm trying to say anyway.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
ooh! an entry....
this simply isn't good enough!
and not just this blog!
i just don't have the time or energy to get round to this. a hundred thoughts, a hundred things to relate, pictures, musings, happenings...there all still there. i just don't have time to get them onto these pages.
and it's driving me crackers!
along with a lot of other things, all of which are probably far too boring to bother with; like being in a job that actually costs me money to do! and i'm not self employed or trying to set up some business. No. I'm a b1°°dy schoolteacher. a schoolteacher who's being shat on from a great height by the school he's been instrumental in building up.
instrumental, not by doing any great feat, but by being there, being consistent, committed (should have been when i think of all the time and energy i've dedicted to the place), trying to do my very best for those in my charge. the boss is great at making stupid decisions and we (the long term staff) are great at getting the school out of the §h1te. this time however i fear he may have overstepped the mark just that once too often, rubbed my rhubarb the wrong way, p1§§ed on my chips just one too many times...
you see?! i shouldn't be writing about this crap! i should be writing witty and charming stuff, expressing fantastically interesting points of view, sharing stunning images and waxing lyrical over unfeasably cheap, erm decent wines. actually this is being accompanied by a downright impertinant little chianti from the coop. a 2004 chianti from the cortebaldi stables (imbbottigliato da ca.so.co s.c.a.r.l., tavrnelle val di pesa, firenze). a real bottle of cheap plonk - about €3.00, but actually really rather drinkable. a little shallow with an aftertaste of very old ribena (TM) and a feel of the old vick's vapor rub, but drinkable all the same.
on the shelf as i write, dear reader.is a 'madonna del piano' brunello do montalcino, riserva 1998. bottled by vicenso abbruzzese on the valdicava vinyards, montalcino. highly recommended and winner of several prizes, i was warned to treat it kindly as it is pretty good - hence it still being there. don't suppose it'd go with a boiled egg sandwich.
the twins are eating us out of house and home! at 18 months! yesterday they had steak, mashed potato and carrots. we had egg sandwiches as there was nowt else to eat, nor will there be unless they pay us!
oops was nearly off again.
see?
i am seriously close to the edge. and that worries me. if i go over they won't pay me. the sheer worry is enough.
and not just this blog!
i just don't have the time or energy to get round to this. a hundred thoughts, a hundred things to relate, pictures, musings, happenings...there all still there. i just don't have time to get them onto these pages.
and it's driving me crackers!
along with a lot of other things, all of which are probably far too boring to bother with; like being in a job that actually costs me money to do! and i'm not self employed or trying to set up some business. No. I'm a b1°°dy schoolteacher. a schoolteacher who's being shat on from a great height by the school he's been instrumental in building up.
instrumental, not by doing any great feat, but by being there, being consistent, committed (should have been when i think of all the time and energy i've dedicted to the place), trying to do my very best for those in my charge. the boss is great at making stupid decisions and we (the long term staff) are great at getting the school out of the §h1te. this time however i fear he may have overstepped the mark just that once too often, rubbed my rhubarb the wrong way, p1§§ed on my chips just one too many times...
you see?! i shouldn't be writing about this crap! i should be writing witty and charming stuff, expressing fantastically interesting points of view, sharing stunning images and waxing lyrical over unfeasably cheap, erm decent wines. actually this is being accompanied by a downright impertinant little chianti from the coop. a 2004 chianti from the cortebaldi stables (imbbottigliato da ca.so.co s.c.a.r.l., tavrnelle val di pesa, firenze). a real bottle of cheap plonk - about €3.00, but actually really rather drinkable. a little shallow with an aftertaste of very old ribena (TM) and a feel of the old vick's vapor rub, but drinkable all the same.
on the shelf as i write, dear reader.is a 'madonna del piano' brunello do montalcino, riserva 1998. bottled by vicenso abbruzzese on the valdicava vinyards, montalcino. highly recommended and winner of several prizes, i was warned to treat it kindly as it is pretty good - hence it still being there. don't suppose it'd go with a boiled egg sandwich.
the twins are eating us out of house and home! at 18 months! yesterday they had steak, mashed potato and carrots. we had egg sandwiches as there was nowt else to eat, nor will there be unless they pay us!
oops was nearly off again.
see?
i am seriously close to the edge. and that worries me. if i go over they won't pay me. the sheer worry is enough.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
NAM JUNE PAIK
Nam June Paik died.
I never met Nam June, there was no reason why I should have I suppose, but Emily used to talk very warmly of him. When I spent time working in New York Emily would point out places of particular Fluxinterest in and around SoHo - the loft that John and Yoko almost bought (!), the boiler that Yoko Ono broke and Yoshi Wada fixed. (There are some fantastic photos of Yoshi Wada rebuilding the furnace in 537 Broadway - Fluxplumbing! I think it's the one that's still in use.) The site of this performance and that, Ay-O's Black Hole - the gallery is in George Maciunas' last loft, under the floorboards there's a piece by Jean Dupuy, actually it's part of the floor. You unscrew two panels, one at either side of the gallery and look into the dark hole, and you see the ceiling! It's all done by mirrors you know! I always wanted to add another mirror so that when you looked into the hole, you'd be looking up your own backside. I got to look under the floor but there was nothing hidden there, just plaster and remnants of old performances, I left it all where it was. I got to hang out with Ay-O, he and his wife cooked us dinner, I helped Emmett Williams and Larry Miller, had tea with Alison Knowles. I spent a fortnight working with Henry Flynt, scanning photos for him, by the second week he began to relax and trust me, he gave me a CD. Emily introduced me to Jeff Perkins, I like Jeff but my drinks bills seemed to double.
I went to Alain Arias Misson's post 9/11 house-reopening party in Battery Park with Jean and Olga, we walked home past the World Trade Centre site two weeks after the attack. Emily made us keep the windows closed for the smoke. Larry and I were allowed to smoke in the airshaft, for a while anyway. Emily didn't like cigarettes around the place, but you could smoke a joint ok. Emily showed me a photo of Ay-O's Rainbow Washing, hung between the Twin Towers for Charlotte Moorman's Avante Garde Festival sometime wayback when. I went to help Larry in his studio (in the middle of which I went to the Port Authority Bus Depot to meet Melissa McCarthy), I helped him pack up for a show. Larry's studio contains the Bob Watts Memorial Archive and I didn't dare ask to look around. We talked and smoked a lot of cigarettes and recited Eddie Izzard sketches- 'Do you have a flag?' Emily and Davidson took me to an opening at a gallery half way up the Empire State Building, we were in jeans and no-one else was, I remember that the wine was awful. On the way to Ay-O's or to visit Alison Knowles or to go to the post office or to go to Canal Jeans or The Pearl River Trading Co. (I think) or to have a mooch along Canal Street or to go and watch RAI 1 through the window of a restaurant on Mulberry St, I'd pass a cafè on the corner of Spring St and Broadway. Some fancy Italian style cafè with overpriced coffee and pastries. I liked walking past as the seating area was raised up from street level. Knee height in the bar was about eye-level on the street, there are some lovely knees and surrounding areas amongst the office and shop girls of SoHo!
Emily told me that Nam June Paik used to sit on the bench outside this cafè on regular basis and just watch the word go by. Perhaps he liked a well-turned leg too. She showed me a nice photo of him with Geoff Hendricks and Dick Higgins (if my memory serves me correctly) on that bench. I never saw him there.
Now I never will, so nothing will change there.
Emily has gone too, I have a lot to thank her for.
Now where did all that come from then...? And that didn't include the Fluxlist meetings.
I never met Nam June, there was no reason why I should have I suppose, but Emily used to talk very warmly of him. When I spent time working in New York Emily would point out places of particular Fluxinterest in and around SoHo - the loft that John and Yoko almost bought (!), the boiler that Yoko Ono broke and Yoshi Wada fixed. (There are some fantastic photos of Yoshi Wada rebuilding the furnace in 537 Broadway - Fluxplumbing! I think it's the one that's still in use.) The site of this performance and that, Ay-O's Black Hole - the gallery is in George Maciunas' last loft, under the floorboards there's a piece by Jean Dupuy, actually it's part of the floor. You unscrew two panels, one at either side of the gallery and look into the dark hole, and you see the ceiling! It's all done by mirrors you know! I always wanted to add another mirror so that when you looked into the hole, you'd be looking up your own backside. I got to look under the floor but there was nothing hidden there, just plaster and remnants of old performances, I left it all where it was. I got to hang out with Ay-O, he and his wife cooked us dinner, I helped Emmett Williams and Larry Miller, had tea with Alison Knowles. I spent a fortnight working with Henry Flynt, scanning photos for him, by the second week he began to relax and trust me, he gave me a CD. Emily introduced me to Jeff Perkins, I like Jeff but my drinks bills seemed to double.
I went to Alain Arias Misson's post 9/11 house-reopening party in Battery Park with Jean and Olga, we walked home past the World Trade Centre site two weeks after the attack. Emily made us keep the windows closed for the smoke. Larry and I were allowed to smoke in the airshaft, for a while anyway. Emily didn't like cigarettes around the place, but you could smoke a joint ok. Emily showed me a photo of Ay-O's Rainbow Washing, hung between the Twin Towers for Charlotte Moorman's Avante Garde Festival sometime wayback when. I went to help Larry in his studio (in the middle of which I went to the Port Authority Bus Depot to meet Melissa McCarthy), I helped him pack up for a show. Larry's studio contains the Bob Watts Memorial Archive and I didn't dare ask to look around. We talked and smoked a lot of cigarettes and recited Eddie Izzard sketches- 'Do you have a flag?' Emily and Davidson took me to an opening at a gallery half way up the Empire State Building, we were in jeans and no-one else was, I remember that the wine was awful. On the way to Ay-O's or to visit Alison Knowles or to go to the post office or to go to Canal Jeans or The Pearl River Trading Co. (I think) or to have a mooch along Canal Street or to go and watch RAI 1 through the window of a restaurant on Mulberry St, I'd pass a cafè on the corner of Spring St and Broadway. Some fancy Italian style cafè with overpriced coffee and pastries. I liked walking past as the seating area was raised up from street level. Knee height in the bar was about eye-level on the street, there are some lovely knees and surrounding areas amongst the office and shop girls of SoHo!
Emily told me that Nam June Paik used to sit on the bench outside this cafè on regular basis and just watch the word go by. Perhaps he liked a well-turned leg too. She showed me a nice photo of him with Geoff Hendricks and Dick Higgins (if my memory serves me correctly) on that bench. I never saw him there.
Now I never will, so nothing will change there.
Emily has gone too, I have a lot to thank her for.
Now where did all that come from then...? And that didn't include the Fluxlist meetings.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
sratgne ubt erut?
itns ti sratneg taht spedite het caft taht siht si lal mexid pu, oyu anc slilt ekam snese of ti!?
goodness gracious great balls of stuffing....
my word! an obstinate little bugger that merlot still, i think i got the better of it. a 'vino dell'amicizia' from the piave region it accompanied quite nicely some roasted pork loin with potatoes, stuffing, cabbage and some really quite sweet roasted carrots. very nice indeed and quite, quite un-italian. an english style sunday lunch, only served at 8.30 in the evening in italy.
got the keyboard to work, after a lot of stress and emails to roland, fluxlist, anybody i could think of. but, dear reader, if you can get past this excess of commas you may be amazed to find that i fixed the problem myself!
yes i did!
really!
i learned to recognise the difference between 'in' and 'out'. i knew something was up and it seemed that one seemed to have more letters than the other... i took the most letters out of the back of the keyboard and put the one with less in, and "hey tesco!" music!
of a sort anyway.
Now i just have to learn to play and to use the software.
got the keyboard to work, after a lot of stress and emails to roland, fluxlist, anybody i could think of. but, dear reader, if you can get past this excess of commas you may be amazed to find that i fixed the problem myself!
yes i did!
really!
i learned to recognise the difference between 'in' and 'out'. i knew something was up and it seemed that one seemed to have more letters than the other... i took the most letters out of the back of the keyboard and put the one with less in, and "hey tesco!" music!
of a sort anyway.
Now i just have to learn to play and to use the software.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
tinkle tinkle...the quincy jones of the avante-garde...
just bought a roland midi-controller keyboard. i found a little bit of unused space in the apartment hat had nothing interesting to gather dust on in it!
actually i'm very excited. i don't really play keyboards but to begin with i aim to elaborate on some 'soundsdcape' stuff and then who knows i might even try and learn to play.
the moby of mestre....
may the great gods of valhalla help us all!
actually i'm very excited. i don't really play keyboards but to begin with i aim to elaborate on some 'soundsdcape' stuff and then who knows i might even try and learn to play.
the moby of mestre....
may the great gods of valhalla help us all!
"dum, dum,dum,dum,dummy,dummy, dum, dum"
aha....
a rather impertinent sangiovese di romagna to accompany my lack of dinner this evening.
i say old chums it's all rather a bit of a rum do if you ask me. oh rum, now there's an idea.
the truth is that there's just not really anything to eat in the house, well there is, it's just that we can't be bothered to cook it and last night's split pea and wheat soup (which was delicious even if i say so myself), well it just doesn't seem that appealing this evening. even the boys wolfed it down, mind you daniel was up at 3a.m. screaming and didn't go back to sleep until the middle of his breakfast at 7.45!
i remember the days before babies when 3 hours sleep wasn't that bad on a weekday, in the days of la tavernetta on via ca' rossa. fabio was supposed to close at 7.30p.m. but many an evening we've rolled out of there after 11 and on to the 'irish' about 200 yards away for some rather potent little gin and tonics.
ah, the bad old, good old bad old days - never quite sure how to look at them really - enjoyable at the time, horrible the day after, workin 8 hours on pure adrenalin, being unable to face food and whan glasses of water tasted like last night's booze and cigarettes.
actually, they were pretty good times it's just that i don't feel that bad that they're over. perhaps i'm growing up!
naaaa!
it's funny though, well not funny ha ha but funny / uncomfortable sometimes when people associate you with the quantity you can/could drink, how 'hard' they think you are, how off the wall. i am a pretty ordinary bloke, certainly in my eyes anyway. i'm not hard, or even violent (although if i do go off i know that i've scared a few people here - but it's only hot air) and i certainly have never classed myself as 'odd', 'wierd', 'crazy', 'wild' or any other of those vile little tags people like to stick on those who conform differently to themselves.
i remember coming to play in a band here in italy and the lads being stunned by that fact that i plugged wolf's semi-acoustic (orange crate!) bass into distortion and chorus pedals, didn't want to write down the verse/chorus structure of 'anarchy in the uk' on a sheet of squared paper just so we'd know how it went, and that i jumped around in the rehearsal room and on stage (when there was space). i was labelled then and have been by others as that 'english' style musician, the one with the wierd stlye! I am a belove average talent guitarist and an inept bassist but i like to jam and play around, and jumping around helps me keep time and disguises the fact that i'm only really playing "dum, dum,dum,dum,dummy,dummy, dum, dum" on the bass!
now where did all that come from then ( a dinner the other night actually..zz.zzzzz.zz, thank god for diego and jelena i'd say)
i was only going to write about having nothing to say.
well i suppose i didn't really have anything to say really, so i wrote it.
a rather impertinent sangiovese di romagna to accompany my lack of dinner this evening.
i say old chums it's all rather a bit of a rum do if you ask me. oh rum, now there's an idea.
the truth is that there's just not really anything to eat in the house, well there is, it's just that we can't be bothered to cook it and last night's split pea and wheat soup (which was delicious even if i say so myself), well it just doesn't seem that appealing this evening. even the boys wolfed it down, mind you daniel was up at 3a.m. screaming and didn't go back to sleep until the middle of his breakfast at 7.45!
i remember the days before babies when 3 hours sleep wasn't that bad on a weekday, in the days of la tavernetta on via ca' rossa. fabio was supposed to close at 7.30p.m. but many an evening we've rolled out of there after 11 and on to the 'irish' about 200 yards away for some rather potent little gin and tonics.
ah, the bad old, good old bad old days - never quite sure how to look at them really - enjoyable at the time, horrible the day after, workin 8 hours on pure adrenalin, being unable to face food and whan glasses of water tasted like last night's booze and cigarettes.
actually, they were pretty good times it's just that i don't feel that bad that they're over. perhaps i'm growing up!
naaaa!
it's funny though, well not funny ha ha but funny / uncomfortable sometimes when people associate you with the quantity you can/could drink, how 'hard' they think you are, how off the wall. i am a pretty ordinary bloke, certainly in my eyes anyway. i'm not hard, or even violent (although if i do go off i know that i've scared a few people here - but it's only hot air) and i certainly have never classed myself as 'odd', 'wierd', 'crazy', 'wild' or any other of those vile little tags people like to stick on those who conform differently to themselves.
i remember coming to play in a band here in italy and the lads being stunned by that fact that i plugged wolf's semi-acoustic (orange crate!) bass into distortion and chorus pedals, didn't want to write down the verse/chorus structure of 'anarchy in the uk' on a sheet of squared paper just so we'd know how it went, and that i jumped around in the rehearsal room and on stage (when there was space). i was labelled then and have been by others as that 'english' style musician, the one with the wierd stlye! I am a belove average talent guitarist and an inept bassist but i like to jam and play around, and jumping around helps me keep time and disguises the fact that i'm only really playing "dum, dum,dum,dum,dummy,dummy, dum, dum" on the bass!
now where did all that come from then ( a dinner the other night actually..zz.zzzzz.zz, thank god for diego and jelena i'd say)
i was only going to write about having nothing to say.
well i suppose i didn't really have anything to say really, so i wrote it.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Sunday, January 01, 2006
aitch enn why
happy new year!
we've been very busy of late, hence the complete lack of anything on this blog.
let's hope i can find some time this year!
we've been very busy of late, hence the complete lack of anything on this blog.
let's hope i can find some time this year!
Friday, December 09, 2005
nowt in particular
It's been a long time since I've written anything here. I just don't have the time, what with work, children, odds and sods to do in the house. Oh and the simple lack of inspiration - I'd forgotten the word itself there for a moment!
Been trying to write to Freeformfreakout biography of Sol Nte (No I did spell that correctly!), Stoke on Trent's greatest living anagram of a river, been averaging about 5 to 10 minutes a day - hardly good for the creative flow and all that, still it's coming along.
hopefully things'll pick up over the christmas break.
jingle hell, jingle hell.....
Been trying to write to Freeformfreakout biography of Sol Nte (No I did spell that correctly!), Stoke on Trent's greatest living anagram of a river, been averaging about 5 to 10 minutes a day - hardly good for the creative flow and all that, still it's coming along.
hopefully things'll pick up over the christmas break.
jingle hell, jingle hell.....
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
blogger plug in for firefox
i found a plugin for firefox that, with a simple click of the old right mouse button, lets you add stuff to you blog, directly from the webpage.
just how nerdy am i?!?!?
just how nerdy am i?!?!?
dull news
things have all gone a bit flat here. i've been fairly productive in my absence from work, apart from looking after sick babies i've been working on some
series of digital prints. some sets are colour photos altered to resemble b&w photocopies, others are photo-collages and others tracings of texts.
disinterred and old project '100 surface music events' and am working on 'surface music event #s 101-107', which are tracings.
but i still don't feel as if my brain's working properly - it feels like it's been removed and replaced with a wet towel covered in mashed potato.
series of digital prints. some sets are colour photos altered to resemble b&w photocopies, others are photo-collages and others tracings of texts.
disinterred and old project '100 surface music events' and am working on 'surface music event #s 101-107', which are tracings.
but i still don't feel as if my brain's working properly - it feels like it's been removed and replaced with a wet towel covered in mashed potato.
squashing sleepiness
had some friends here from the UK at the weekend. i felt like it was the first time i'd had a proper conversation with someone apart from nic for a loooong time. at times i felt as if i must have been talking like a machine gun, trying to get out everything i wanted to say. yet when i sit down here to write, be it this blog or a biography i want to write for a fluxlist project, my concentration goes, i get confused, someone swaps the keys around on the computer
i'm sure, and i'm hit with crushing tiredness.
so that's it.
i'm sure, and i'm hit with crushing tiredness.
so that's it.
apart from this bit
lo scorpione marino shouts gerry scotti from the living room, a bell rings and someone gets a point.
the light flickers and i fear it may not have been the bulb after all, the championess has 11 letters.
and my eyelids feel as if they have been tranquilised and lead coated with a layer of fine sand applied to the inside just to make the onion produced
sulphuric acid works more effectively.
the light flickers and i fear it may not have been the bulb after all, the championess has 11 letters.
and my eyelids feel as if they have been tranquilised and lead coated with a layer of fine sand applied to the inside just to make the onion produced
sulphuric acid works more effectively.
Friday, November 11, 2005
bah! bah! perfumy pumpkins!!!!!!!!!!
just don't seem to be able to write anything here at the moment, nothing of any interest anyway. by the time i've got time i'm usually too tired anyway.
we've got one of the boys at home from nursery this week with a chest infection. he's fine but very demanding, at that age where you simply can't let them out of your sight. today he's very tired and feeling very sorry for himself due to his cold i assume, and i think that he's teething too. i've just got him to bed for an afternoon nap, but i don't reckon it'll last that long.
i suppose it's a luxury being able to spend this much time with the children, but i am so down and confused that it become very stressful. just getting my thoughts organised enough to make his lunch took me best part of the morning. i did make a rather splendid fish pie though! tonight they've got sweet potato, pumpkin and carrot soup, which was rather nice too (modest li'l devil ain't i?), but the parsley gave it a bit of a perfumy taste.
been at home again this week, still on the sick, and with the exception of a funeral all i've done is look after a sick baby, do the shopping and pop in to bar vittoria for the odd coffee on the way back from picking the other one up from nursery. i'm trying to work on a series of large scale photo-montages, computer manipulated digital collages if you like, but every time i try to start someone cries.
perhaps there's a message there?
or i'm simply too knackered.
and i'm still convinced that the tablets have a negative effect. i can't even play my guitar properly now! i'm off again next week, the boyo should be back at nursery, perhaps the free time will help...
we've got one of the boys at home from nursery this week with a chest infection. he's fine but very demanding, at that age where you simply can't let them out of your sight. today he's very tired and feeling very sorry for himself due to his cold i assume, and i think that he's teething too. i've just got him to bed for an afternoon nap, but i don't reckon it'll last that long.
i suppose it's a luxury being able to spend this much time with the children, but i am so down and confused that it become very stressful. just getting my thoughts organised enough to make his lunch took me best part of the morning. i did make a rather splendid fish pie though! tonight they've got sweet potato, pumpkin and carrot soup, which was rather nice too (modest li'l devil ain't i?), but the parsley gave it a bit of a perfumy taste.
been at home again this week, still on the sick, and with the exception of a funeral all i've done is look after a sick baby, do the shopping and pop in to bar vittoria for the odd coffee on the way back from picking the other one up from nursery. i'm trying to work on a series of large scale photo-montages, computer manipulated digital collages if you like, but every time i try to start someone cries.
perhaps there's a message there?
or i'm simply too knackered.
and i'm still convinced that the tablets have a negative effect. i can't even play my guitar properly now! i'm off again next week, the boyo should be back at nursery, perhaps the free time will help...
Sunday, November 06, 2005
alan bowman / the freeformfreakout organsation
alan bowman / the freeformfreakout organsation
woo! cool! i can blog directly from my web browser....
now, if only i could think of something to write about dot dot dot
woo! cool! i can blog directly from my web browser....
now, if only i could think of something to write about dot dot dot
blog this you bugger
just found the 'blog this' extension for firefox.
let's see if it works...
ooh strange! i can still smell the 'elch blut' spirit and the blackcurrant grappa from last night!
hmm
let's see if it works...
ooh strange! i can still smell the 'elch blut' spirit and the blackcurrant grappa from last night!
hmm
three thoughts
there's always an oddfellow!
be it a sock or michael leigh...
it's always my sock!
but i hear maichael is anyones for a pint of tofu pilsner...
for lunch you can do mince or whatever and for tea scrambled egg for the boys.
the last thought wasn't mine
be it a sock or michael leigh...
it's always my sock!
but i hear maichael is anyones for a pint of tofu pilsner...
for lunch you can do mince or whatever and for tea scrambled egg for the boys.
the last thought wasn't mine
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
testing
below should be a couple of images. i'm trying uploading direct to blogger instead of using 'hello'.
you should see a couple of doctored photos of the venetian lagoon.
you should see a couple of doctored photos of the venetian lagoon.
Masks Tickets Performer Ballerina Star's Door
Been working on a project for reed altemus. have to send 6 to 8 prints. so far have made 3 sets. one set of games, which looks crap but the idea's there, one illustrated set of 'telephone events', originally written for emily harvey's memorial service. and one set of 'visual poems' based on a tracing of a ascii poem of a hexadecimal code poem from years ago.
the games were all produced on the computer from scratch. there's join the dots (3), freeformfreakout organisation snap (2 versions), fffo hangman (which looks awful) and noughts and crosses.
the telephone events are illustrated with photographs. colour photos that i took around my home and at san giuliano, the park area at the end of the 'ponte della libertà' on the venetian lagoon, which faces out to venice herself. crap park, amazing view! the photos were turned b&w, had the contrast fiddled with and then turned into bitmaps to emulate photocopies. don't ask!
the poem was inspired by my flicking through 'an anthology of concrete poetry' which emmett williams gave me a few years ago and which i haven't picked up, well, for a few years. if i remember rightly i wrote to reed asking if the pieces should be images, texts or whatever and he replied that so far much of the stuff he'd got was image based so perhaps something different...
my mind immediately went blank. and began producing pictures! i came very close to simply writing 8 pages on depression, anxiety and crises of confidence. i also came close to writing a piece on why i couldn't produce the piece. but i couldn't do it, my mind was blank.
so as an exercise in (torturous) concentration i traced a page of ascii text which was produced when trying to print an incompatible file in windows. the result is quite pleasing, considering. i like the one, lone, almost coherent line:
"Masks Tickets Performer Ballerina Star's Door".
the rest of it has a scandinavian feel, lots of ys with dots and and stuff.
I read it aloud in my head in the bathroom in memory of jackson mac low, who i met a few times and don't think ever shared more than a few words with, and they were probably 'would you like some more rice?'
i think i'll have to do some more 'graphical work'. the medication i'm on seems to be interfering with the normal chaos which is my average state of mind.
beginning to feel stressed, low and dulled! bah! should go in the garage and draw big pictures, then photograph them and send them to people...
perhaps i could do some venetian 'surface music events', it's been a very long time.
then again i might just go and watch zorro.
the games were all produced on the computer from scratch. there's join the dots (3), freeformfreakout organisation snap (2 versions), fffo hangman (which looks awful) and noughts and crosses.
the telephone events are illustrated with photographs. colour photos that i took around my home and at san giuliano, the park area at the end of the 'ponte della libertà' on the venetian lagoon, which faces out to venice herself. crap park, amazing view! the photos were turned b&w, had the contrast fiddled with and then turned into bitmaps to emulate photocopies. don't ask!
the poem was inspired by my flicking through 'an anthology of concrete poetry' which emmett williams gave me a few years ago and which i haven't picked up, well, for a few years. if i remember rightly i wrote to reed asking if the pieces should be images, texts or whatever and he replied that so far much of the stuff he'd got was image based so perhaps something different...
my mind immediately went blank. and began producing pictures! i came very close to simply writing 8 pages on depression, anxiety and crises of confidence. i also came close to writing a piece on why i couldn't produce the piece. but i couldn't do it, my mind was blank.
so as an exercise in (torturous) concentration i traced a page of ascii text which was produced when trying to print an incompatible file in windows. the result is quite pleasing, considering. i like the one, lone, almost coherent line:
"Masks Tickets Performer Ballerina Star's Door".
the rest of it has a scandinavian feel, lots of ys with dots and and stuff.
I read it aloud in my head in the bathroom in memory of jackson mac low, who i met a few times and don't think ever shared more than a few words with, and they were probably 'would you like some more rice?'
i think i'll have to do some more 'graphical work'. the medication i'm on seems to be interfering with the normal chaos which is my average state of mind.
beginning to feel stressed, low and dulled! bah! should go in the garage and draw big pictures, then photograph them and send them to people...
perhaps i could do some venetian 'surface music events', it's been a very long time.
then again i might just go and watch zorro.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
blah
28_10_05
mmm, just finished making a new soup - not so 'improvised' as the two on www.freeformfreakoutorganisation.net, as i sort of bought one of the ingredients deliberately to go with the ones i knew i had in the house. so it was a kind of premeditated soup. fennel, sweet potato and carrot with a touch of black pepper and garlic. it's very lightly seasoned so that the boys can eat it as well. no added salt - i used some stock cubes and i fear they may have had enough salt to mummify at leaste one of us.
i have to be careful what i eat now. trying to eliminate possible causes of certain ailments, more blood tests - this time for pernicious anaemia amongst other things! seems like a lots of stuff is not going as i'd like it to, i often think that its purely down to stress.
i'm on the sick, doctor's orders, he gave me longer than i'd have liked. but then again that's not really true, i'd like to not have to go to work at all!
but as a teacher you sort of always feel a bit guilty if you're not there (with younger children i suppose that is). the place can however make you feel really guilty, the boss and the parents get really shirty if a teacher is ill - very unfair.
mmm, just finished making a new soup - not so 'improvised' as the two on www.freeformfreakoutorganisation.net, as i sort of bought one of the ingredients deliberately to go with the ones i knew i had in the house. so it was a kind of premeditated soup. fennel, sweet potato and carrot with a touch of black pepper and garlic. it's very lightly seasoned so that the boys can eat it as well. no added salt - i used some stock cubes and i fear they may have had enough salt to mummify at leaste one of us.
i have to be careful what i eat now. trying to eliminate possible causes of certain ailments, more blood tests - this time for pernicious anaemia amongst other things! seems like a lots of stuff is not going as i'd like it to, i often think that its purely down to stress.
i'm on the sick, doctor's orders, he gave me longer than i'd have liked. but then again that's not really true, i'd like to not have to go to work at all!
but as a teacher you sort of always feel a bit guilty if you're not there (with younger children i suppose that is). the place can however make you feel really guilty, the boss and the parents get really shirty if a teacher is ill - very unfair.
yesteday's soup
29_10_05
and very nice too was the soup. today i made lentil, wheat and chicken but we haven't eaten any yet, well the boys have. nic's gone to venice and i'm being
the good dad.
been out, down to the park at san giuliano which looks out to venice from the mainland. it was a beautiful, mist, venetian day. foggy, but with an amazing
light that came out as a red/violet tint on the photos. wonderful when you can distinguish the horizon from the lagoon and the islands simply lurk somewhere
in the distance. venice herself was almost invisible, save a hazy lump and the ever present 'campanile', amazing, you couldn't see the city but you could
see the belltower.
and very nice too was the soup. today i made lentil, wheat and chicken but we haven't eaten any yet, well the boys have. nic's gone to venice and i'm being
the good dad.
been out, down to the park at san giuliano which looks out to venice from the mainland. it was a beautiful, mist, venetian day. foggy, but with an amazing
light that came out as a red/violet tint on the photos. wonderful when you can distinguish the horizon from the lagoon and the islands simply lurk somewhere
in the distance. venice herself was almost invisible, save a hazy lump and the ever present 'campanile', amazing, you couldn't see the city but you could
see the belltower.
hard to wipe your nose on scar tissue
29_10_05 ii
it's funny to see how and what i've just written. i am in a terrible state, a very black mood. ever inch of me feels as if it's got its own particular pain. i just want to explode, to scream until i cough my lungs out, to smash something, to kick the living daylights out of someone, to DESTROY something, physically, violently. i direct it all inwards and punch myself.
it doesn't work.
it's absurd the difference betwwen how i feel inwardly at present, and my 'nature'.
am i a potential killer?
am i a danger to others?
am i a danger to myself?
am i a closet thug
am i a loser
am i?
am i?
probably not. but that doesn't take the pain away. i can't cry anymore. instead i bite the inside of my lip, i have hard skin inside my mouth, scar tissue.
then i go blank.
and i can't think.
like now.
but then it's funny to go back and read stuff that i've just written about making soup. what the hell is going on? i am falling apart but making great
food and writing drivel about doing so.
i should be making great food and writing great stuff about it.....
it's funny to see how and what i've just written. i am in a terrible state, a very black mood. ever inch of me feels as if it's got its own particular pain. i just want to explode, to scream until i cough my lungs out, to smash something, to kick the living daylights out of someone, to DESTROY something, physically, violently. i direct it all inwards and punch myself.
it doesn't work.
it's absurd the difference betwwen how i feel inwardly at present, and my 'nature'.
am i a potential killer?
am i a danger to others?
am i a danger to myself?
am i a closet thug
am i a loser
am i?
am i?
probably not. but that doesn't take the pain away. i can't cry anymore. instead i bite the inside of my lip, i have hard skin inside my mouth, scar tissue.
then i go blank.
and i can't think.
like now.
but then it's funny to go back and read stuff that i've just written about making soup. what the hell is going on? i am falling apart but making great
food and writing drivel about doing so.
i should be making great food and writing great stuff about it.....
Monday, October 24, 2005
ò#°*!+!!
how come refilling a printer cartridge provokes a paper jam disaster?
i just don't get it, one minute to refill the cartridge thus saving twenty odd euros and one normal one. one hour to get the bloody thing to print. at leats two days knocked of my life expectancy due to excess stress and about five euro worth of tree chucked away in the course of things.
that's what i like about computers, how they speed things up and make life easier.
ò#°*!+!!
i just don't get it, one minute to refill the cartridge thus saving twenty odd euros and one normal one. one hour to get the bloody thing to print. at leats two days knocked of my life expectancy due to excess stress and about five euro worth of tree chucked away in the course of things.
that's what i like about computers, how they speed things up and make life easier.
ò#°*!+!!
Sunday, October 23, 2005
3 - 2
apparently in this new apartment you shouldn't make shepherds pie whilst someone is trying to find out the score of the newcastle-sunderland derby.
the electrics can't deal with the internet, mince and potatoes all at the same time.
newcastle 3 - sunderland 2, it appears that derby didn't show up...
quite a score that for a tyne/wear derby, no doubt there will be phone calls from my brother and nic's dad who were both there at st. james'
TOON ARMY!
thanks to telecom italia and their out of date cables, i was unable to listen to the match live.
the electrics can't deal with the internet, mince and potatoes all at the same time.
newcastle 3 - sunderland 2, it appears that derby didn't show up...
quite a score that for a tyne/wear derby, no doubt there will be phone calls from my brother and nic's dad who were both there at st. james'
TOON ARMY!
thanks to telecom italia and their out of date cables, i was unable to listen to the match live.
Friday, October 21, 2005
seven wonder(if)s of the world at 23:43 GMT+1 20_10_05
I wonder if this black spot I keep seeing is something or nothing
I wonder if I'll find the courage to even apply for a residency in New Mexico
I wonder if the babies cry simply because I'm trying to concentrate/sleep/go to the toilet
I wonder if those pains in my left arm mere anything to worry abot today
I wonder if we will ever find the balls to stop people dying of starvation
I wonder if I'll ever find the balls to actually do something instead of crying at a documentary
I wonder if the world really would stop if I simply walked out of work one day and went to Venice for the afternoon
I wonder if I'll find the courage to even apply for a residency in New Mexico
I wonder if the babies cry simply because I'm trying to concentrate/sleep/go to the toilet
I wonder if those pains in my left arm mere anything to worry abot today
I wonder if we will ever find the balls to stop people dying of starvation
I wonder if I'll ever find the balls to actually do something instead of crying at a documentary
I wonder if the world really would stop if I simply walked out of work one day and went to Venice for the afternoon
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
MUMMY!!!
what do we have to look forward to this week in class 4?
how about this: for p.e. instead of going to the gym we are continuing our rowing course on the venetian lagoon!! last week i was out in a dragon boat,
other kids were out in a canoe and others learned the basics of 'voga alla veneta', a type of rowing specific to the venetian lagoon. you've all seen the classic gondolier right? we're learning to do that!
in class wqe're doing 'death!' but not in venice though. death and burial rituals in ancient egypt. after the dual crown of the united kingdoms of upper and lower egypt, we are going to see what would happen to the pharoah after his death...
...if he was an apple that is.
mummification of fruit, better than arithmetic i suppose.
how about this: for p.e. instead of going to the gym we are continuing our rowing course on the venetian lagoon!! last week i was out in a dragon boat,
other kids were out in a canoe and others learned the basics of 'voga alla veneta', a type of rowing specific to the venetian lagoon. you've all seen the classic gondolier right? we're learning to do that!
in class wqe're doing 'death!' but not in venice though. death and burial rituals in ancient egypt. after the dual crown of the united kingdoms of upper and lower egypt, we are going to see what would happen to the pharoah after his death...
...if he was an apple that is.
mummification of fruit, better than arithmetic i suppose.
hooligans!
the boys had their first haircut today. they look like little lads!
hooligans at home, angels at nursery. 14month old con artists!
the boys got their first pair of 'proper' shoes today. very sensible shoes,
considering dad's taste in brothel creepers and bovva boots.
hooligans at home, angels at nursery. 14month old con artists!
the boys got their first pair of 'proper' shoes today. very sensible shoes,
considering dad's taste in brothel creepers and bovva boots.
mass of unpleasantness
it's a strange thing, depressive illness,stress, this collection of fears, crises of confidence, confusion, this black mass of unpleasantness that engulfs me on a more and more frequent basis. i use 'unpleasantness' as i simple can't think of the correct word without sounding somewhat melodramatic.
it's strange thing because, often when i am at my worst - i am at my best.
it's a strange thing, when i find it hardest to function in the 'real world' my other stuff kicks in. spontaneous ideas, and lots of them come along sometimes all at the same time so that i can't 'get them out.
recently i started writing, for no real reason, a kind of surreal story for this blog. it came from a child's sponge floor tile which had the shape of a frog
stamped out of it. i'm not saying that the story is good, but it sort of just 'fell out' of my head! as i progressed with the next part i began to reread the first and realise that it was, in its own way, an interesting thing. the more i realised that i could be onto something here, something to do to express what's going on in my head, the less i was able to continue with it. the more stable i become, the more unable i become.
it's a strange thing.
it's strange thing because, often when i am at my worst - i am at my best.
it's a strange thing, when i find it hardest to function in the 'real world' my other stuff kicks in. spontaneous ideas, and lots of them come along sometimes all at the same time so that i can't 'get them out.
recently i started writing, for no real reason, a kind of surreal story for this blog. it came from a child's sponge floor tile which had the shape of a frog
stamped out of it. i'm not saying that the story is good, but it sort of just 'fell out' of my head! as i progressed with the next part i began to reread the first and realise that it was, in its own way, an interesting thing. the more i realised that i could be onto something here, something to do to express what's going on in my head, the less i was able to continue with it. the more stable i become, the more unable i become.
it's a strange thing.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Blond triplets in full drag.
"Get me up!" I croaked, so that the Frog would understand just what it was I wanted.
"I'm afraid" he croaked back.
"Don't be afraid darling, i's only a graze. My tennis may be a little off for a week or two but we can still go out." I interjected from between two jects.
"I'm afraid that the telephone is out of action, you portly, potential paraplegic! It was crushed under the antlers during the apple falling incident." He offered.
I declined only having recently managed to quit. "Use your cell phone!" I ribbeted on old French.
"Eh?" queried my trusty sidekick in fluent modern English.
"I was talking to the toad, man." I explained to my trusty sidekick.
He kicked me in the side and left the scene the same way he had entered, pointlessly.
"Use your cell phone!" I reribbeted in a recent romanesque dialect.
And the telephone rang, it was the police station.
"Hello, hello, hello!" chorused three unclear voices. "Thees ees the local nick," offered the least muffled of the three, "Excuse the lack of clarity but it is hot here and the glue on our special pleece issue moustaches isn't adapted for outdoor use. We believe we have a French mess in one of our cells, a fat orange chap, rabbiting on about a phone. We picked him up after he aroused our suspicions."
At this point here was a pause I was convinced that there was a distinct triple moan from the other end of the phone. Walking to the other end of the phone I stumbled over three piles of oozing fat.
"Oi! Watch it you great multi-bellied mug!" belched the smaller of the piles, lurching up from the floor. It was the frog.
"I thought you were in the nick!" I blurted
"I was." he blunted.
"But how come you're here and not there?" I bleated.
"It's not there any more." he bloated
"How come?" I blurted again for sheere lack of verbs.
"I nicked it!" replied the even less imaginative, tangerine toned, Gallic henchman.
Somewhere in the distance a door slammed, a dog barked, a tumble weed, a wolf whistled and a tortoise headed of into the bushes.
"I'm afraid" he croaked back.
"Don't be afraid darling, i's only a graze. My tennis may be a little off for a week or two but we can still go out." I interjected from between two jects.
"I'm afraid that the telephone is out of action, you portly, potential paraplegic! It was crushed under the antlers during the apple falling incident." He offered.
I declined only having recently managed to quit. "Use your cell phone!" I ribbeted on old French.
"Eh?" queried my trusty sidekick in fluent modern English.
"I was talking to the toad, man." I explained to my trusty sidekick.
He kicked me in the side and left the scene the same way he had entered, pointlessly.
"Use your cell phone!" I reribbeted in a recent romanesque dialect.
And the telephone rang, it was the police station.
"Hello, hello, hello!" chorused three unclear voices. "Thees ees the local nick," offered the least muffled of the three, "Excuse the lack of clarity but it is hot here and the glue on our special pleece issue moustaches isn't adapted for outdoor use. We believe we have a French mess in one of our cells, a fat orange chap, rabbiting on about a phone. We picked him up after he aroused our suspicions."
At this point here was a pause I was convinced that there was a distinct triple moan from the other end of the phone. Walking to the other end of the phone I stumbled over three piles of oozing fat.
"Oi! Watch it you great multi-bellied mug!" belched the smaller of the piles, lurching up from the floor. It was the frog.
"I thought you were in the nick!" I blurted
"I was." he blunted.
"But how come you're here and not there?" I bleated.
"It's not there any more." he bloated
"How come?" I blurted again for sheere lack of verbs.
"I nicked it!" replied the even less imaginative, tangerine toned, Gallic henchman.
Somewhere in the distance a door slammed, a dog barked, a tumble weed, a wolf whistled and a tortoise headed of into the bushes.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
The Faceless Lion Inspired Lesser Knuckle Injury
The waiter, being hard of hearing, accepted the ten euro note with Good Grace. After a while however he realised that Good Grace no longer worked there and saw no reason to share the bank note with her. The waiter, Walter informed Good Grace in no uncertain terms, using certain terms that on hearing Good Manners simply got up and walked away, that he was not prepared to share the red note. Good Grace took the pip but Walter did not care, for he had finished with it.
Realising that both she and the pip were finished in the story, Good Grace left with Good Will. Will was surprised.
Watching all of this from the bosom of some long defunct, dead Egytpian bird I began to realise that I would have to eventually admit the fact that I was stuck. My fowl legged Gallic friend had long since flown the coop, but notwithstanding (in fact with a lot of without vomiting) had long since come back.
The waiter tripping, the lack lustre butterfly link had been entirely his idea.
I on the other hand, before this evening, had been on my other knees trying to make sense of my dear friend Noah. As twisted as things may get I thought, at least I'll have Noah dear! Which is often better than not.
Meanwhile musing meanly my attention was drawn and my curiosity photocopied, and both posted to an anonymous address. Realising the gravity of the situation I hit the floor with a tremendous thump, a clattering crunch and the palm of my hand.
Realising that both she and the pip were finished in the story, Good Grace left with Good Will. Will was surprised.
Watching all of this from the bosom of some long defunct, dead Egytpian bird I began to realise that I would have to eventually admit the fact that I was stuck. My fowl legged Gallic friend had long since flown the coop, but notwithstanding (in fact with a lot of without vomiting) had long since come back.
The waiter tripping, the lack lustre butterfly link had been entirely his idea.
I on the other hand, before this evening, had been on my other knees trying to make sense of my dear friend Noah. As twisted as things may get I thought, at least I'll have Noah dear! Which is often better than not.
Meanwhile musing meanly my attention was drawn and my curiosity photocopied, and both posted to an anonymous address. Realising the gravity of the situation I hit the floor with a tremendous thump, a clattering crunch and the palm of my hand.
Monday, October 10, 2005
no entry
(Beacuse of weirdly problemings with Blogger tonight, this post should be before the next one, but isn't...and therefore makes even less sense being here.
i really can't think of anything to write tonight, la scatola dell'idiota fa interference.
not to be confused with inter - firenze which would be a football match.
aiya!!!!!
cramp!!!
aah, that's better.
i really can't think of anything to write tonight, la scatola dell'idiota fa interference.
not to be confused with inter - firenze which would be a football match.
aiya!!!!!
cramp!!!
aah, that's better.
FLOORED
As the pea-green bunny sidled up to the dimpled butterfly i told that god damned tangerine frog to close his ugly mouth and keep an eye out for the blue strawberry.
"Hey cool it little crippled buddha man!" he replied hollow-eyed from his hiding place right out in the open.
"Watch that bunny you citrus tinged French Lieutenant's lunch!" I hissed from my perch on Cleopatra's breast. "He's already had it away with the reindeer, he left only the antlers underneath that apple there!"
"Did you know that the reindeer in Spain are usually difficult to explain?" ventured my wide-mouthed watchman. Out in the open he was exposed to the sun, accepting his cheque from the gutter pressman in the gutter he put his trousers back on. The heat had, I feared, given our position away as there was a strong smell of chicken coming from the direction of the obvious french gentleman who was covering on a plum leaf, staring at entirely thewrong rabbit.
"Shut up and watch that bunny man!" I whispered in a shout.
"Hey! Spare us the Cuttering remarks, for under this Killing Moon I am ready, even Crocodiles couldn't move me from my task. I'll watch the rabbit you just watch the butterfly!"
And with that he tripped the waiter.
"Hey cool it little crippled buddha man!" he replied hollow-eyed from his hiding place right out in the open.
"Watch that bunny you citrus tinged French Lieutenant's lunch!" I hissed from my perch on Cleopatra's breast. "He's already had it away with the reindeer, he left only the antlers underneath that apple there!"
"Did you know that the reindeer in Spain are usually difficult to explain?" ventured my wide-mouthed watchman. Out in the open he was exposed to the sun, accepting his cheque from the gutter pressman in the gutter he put his trousers back on. The heat had, I feared, given our position away as there was a strong smell of chicken coming from the direction of the obvious french gentleman who was covering on a plum leaf, staring at entirely thewrong rabbit.
"Shut up and watch that bunny man!" I whispered in a shout.
"Hey! Spare us the Cuttering remarks, for under this Killing Moon I am ready, even Crocodiles couldn't move me from my task. I'll watch the rabbit you just watch the butterfly!"
And with that he tripped the waiter.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
christmas present
just looking up at the electric idiot lantern and i notice that the sunday evening film is "natale sul nilo" (christmas on the nile).
for reasons known only to someone else.
for reasons known only to someone else.
steaky fingers
steak and baked potato with roasted peppers and courgettes - note, despite being in italy i am still using the good old 'english' name, which is indeed french. dinner was given a french touch by the after dinner munching of 4 sugared pistache, courtesy of dragees reynaud, marseilles and deux bits of 'lindt excellence vanille naturelle blanc extra fin' - eat the chocolate then repeat the name twice and the action of your jaw muscles actually burns off the calories consumed.
yes i know lindt is swiss, but they speak french there.
yes i know lindt is swiss, but they speak french there.
(it's a) wonderiful world - 7 wonders of the moment
i wonder if my piece will make it into Visible language
i wonder if my pieces will make it into the fluxus performance workbook
i wonder if they have a job that will straighten me out
i wonder if i'll wake up one day and not hurt somewhere
i wonder if i'll ever find the courage to show people who i am
i wonder if people will ever stop assuming who i am
i wonder if it ever gets easier
i wonder if my pieces will make it into the fluxus performance workbook
i wonder if they have a job that will straighten me out
i wonder if i'll wake up one day and not hurt somewhere
i wonder if i'll ever find the courage to show people who i am
i wonder if people will ever stop assuming who i am
i wonder if it ever gets easier
friends and kitchen acoustics and grappa
funny how having children children seems to erase your number from peoples phone books.
and i'm not the type to go on about babystuff. i am absolutely in love with my boys but i'm also aware that on the whole my friends do'nt really want to hear about about them all the time.
oh well....
luckily at the moment i'm quite happy staying in, working on some music projects and a couple of websites (well i'm at the thinking stage there anyway).
walter cianciusi's 'fluxus anthology' cd project and rod stasick's 'job_app' (based on the works of john m. bennett) have got me going.
been recording a load of experimental stuff, but more interestingly i've been working on a lot of new guitar based stuff, both new songs and covers. so far ive put down some acoustic/samples mixes of 'working class hero' and ' love will tear us apart' (acoustic guitar and 'kitchen' being the instruments used).
the mixes are pretty rough as i'm working solely on a laptop with no professional mic, but the approach i've found for the covers and the new original tunes which as yet have no texts) is actually quite exciting for me - the first time i've been actually excited and inspired to play for a long time for reasons of music and not only for booze and the chance to let rip and pretend to be someone else.
friends again:
i have to be honest, because i can't get out for the old 'sprizz hour' (aperatif) and most people go out to eat, which i tend to do at home to at least spend some baby-free time with nic, and nobody seems to just nip out for a pint - i haven't really been making any efort to go out.
did go out the other evening with nic and a couple of friends (we had a babysitter! yep grandma was here). an agriturismo - set menu, set price, no hassle, unlimited wine...and then my downfall (he types slurping a larg jack daniels single barrel), grappa. it's been a long time, and i did give it a good go, there's something about a full bottle that just brings out the competative side in me!
...you know, i don't think i really like jack daniels all that much. i prefer a good scotch and a good irish too.
anyway after the grappa we went to bar vittoria for another coffee, so i had a couple of mojitos (couldn't pronounce caffè, not enough syllables!)
last sunday was a washout...
and i'm not the type to go on about babystuff. i am absolutely in love with my boys but i'm also aware that on the whole my friends do'nt really want to hear about about them all the time.
oh well....
luckily at the moment i'm quite happy staying in, working on some music projects and a couple of websites (well i'm at the thinking stage there anyway).
walter cianciusi's 'fluxus anthology' cd project and rod stasick's 'job_app' (based on the works of john m. bennett) have got me going.
been recording a load of experimental stuff, but more interestingly i've been working on a lot of new guitar based stuff, both new songs and covers. so far ive put down some acoustic/samples mixes of 'working class hero' and ' love will tear us apart' (acoustic guitar and 'kitchen' being the instruments used).
the mixes are pretty rough as i'm working solely on a laptop with no professional mic, but the approach i've found for the covers and the new original tunes which as yet have no texts) is actually quite exciting for me - the first time i've been actually excited and inspired to play for a long time for reasons of music and not only for booze and the chance to let rip and pretend to be someone else.
friends again:
i have to be honest, because i can't get out for the old 'sprizz hour' (aperatif) and most people go out to eat, which i tend to do at home to at least spend some baby-free time with nic, and nobody seems to just nip out for a pint - i haven't really been making any efort to go out.
did go out the other evening with nic and a couple of friends (we had a babysitter! yep grandma was here). an agriturismo - set menu, set price, no hassle, unlimited wine...and then my downfall (he types slurping a larg jack daniels single barrel), grappa. it's been a long time, and i did give it a good go, there's something about a full bottle that just brings out the competative side in me!
...you know, i don't think i really like jack daniels all that much. i prefer a good scotch and a good irish too.
anyway after the grappa we went to bar vittoria for another coffee, so i had a couple of mojitos (couldn't pronounce caffè, not enough syllables!)
last sunday was a washout...
job satisfaction and other mysteries
after working in a place for nigh on 6 odd years, well 4 odd years, one rather peculiar and one downright frighteningly bizarre year, a man may be surprised, and not pleasingly so, when offered a pay cut. one fight and one much more civilised meeting on and it appears that i was right, the new contract is for less money.
hopefully by april should be sorted out! hope so as it means i'll be back working for the gallery in some shape or form. got to do something to get out of this hole, i'm in permanent pain now, like one long heart attack without the pain in the arm and the risk of death...bit annoying really.
hopefully by april should be sorted out! hope so as it means i'll be back working for the gallery in some shape or form. got to do something to get out of this hole, i'm in permanent pain now, like one long heart attack without the pain in the arm and the risk of death...bit annoying really.
firebomb telecom and petrol pumps full o' wine
well then, it's been a fair old while since i've been able to get anything posted here. we can thank telecom italia for that. ten phone calls and ten different reasons why the ADSL line is not up and running after the transfer of the line from the old house to the new. turns out that all those reasons were a load of cobblers as the eleventh and twelve phonecalls came up with the same answer - the phone line in the new house is not yet capable of supporting ADSL.
but thanks to supereva.it we now have dial up, so at least michael leigh will have something to read!
it's strange, i've being looking forward to getting back on here and now i am i can't think of anything to say!
just been out across the road for some wine. 5 litres of pinot grigiot - 7euro! took the old flask across to massimo in the cantina and got a refill. man tha place is too close! drinking that juice can be dangerous to a soul, via san donà is a busy road to cross witha a 5l flagon, thank the great gods of valhalla that there was no rain to oil the skidpan outside bruno's butcher shop. the curve before the co-op instills madness in the minds of the demon fiat punto drivers who can hit mach2 before whipping the skirts of mara while she organises the onions outside the family fruit and veg shop, before vapourising their tyres whilst slamming on the anchors to avoid the instable inebriates fresh from their tocai fuelled card games in the bar noone knows the name of, crossing the road to the betting shop after pizzeria alice.
it's a wise man who keeps his eyes open and his flask away from the oncoming around these parts at teatime.
but thanks to supereva.it we now have dial up, so at least michael leigh will have something to read!
it's strange, i've being looking forward to getting back on here and now i am i can't think of anything to say!
just been out across the road for some wine. 5 litres of pinot grigiot - 7euro! took the old flask across to massimo in the cantina and got a refill. man tha place is too close! drinking that juice can be dangerous to a soul, via san donà is a busy road to cross witha a 5l flagon, thank the great gods of valhalla that there was no rain to oil the skidpan outside bruno's butcher shop. the curve before the co-op instills madness in the minds of the demon fiat punto drivers who can hit mach2 before whipping the skirts of mara while she organises the onions outside the family fruit and veg shop, before vapourising their tyres whilst slamming on the anchors to avoid the instable inebriates fresh from their tocai fuelled card games in the bar noone knows the name of, crossing the road to the betting shop after pizzeria alice.
it's a wise man who keeps his eyes open and his flask away from the oncoming around these parts at teatime.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
